


We Modern Men Don't Fight with Swords

by AntagonizedPenguin



Series: How Best to Use a Sword [23]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Across All the Stories, In the modern AU nobody asked for, Just one-offs, M/M, Most aren't, Some Chapters are NSFW, warnings per chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2018-09-15 22:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 28
Words: 44,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9261161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntagonizedPenguin/pseuds/AntagonizedPenguin
Summary: Knights? Dragons? Magic? Sure, nice stories--but modern people have modern problems; it's a totally different world.A modern au for the series that probably nobody wanted, in which modern people have modern problems and it's really very similar.A collection of one-offs, probably, based on the various characters in the main series.





	1. Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to be sociable on [Tumblr,](http://underhandedpenguin.tumblr.com) and this lead to me accidentally mentioning my secret [modern AU](http://underhandedpenguin.tumblr.com/post/155149976148/ok-literally-tell-me-every-detail-youve-ever) for the series, and then talking about it [a lot](http://underhandedpenguin.tumblr.com/tagged/Modern-AU). So I wrote a thing, and probably I'll write more things in the future (not plot things, though, these ones will legitimately just be one-offs when I'm bored. I'll take requests too if anyone is interested). 
> 
> To sum up: Yes, I'm writing fanfic about my own stories. Don't worry, I promise the main series will still proceed on schedule.

There was a park not far from the academy that Isaac kind of liked. It was a rich people park that was mostly grass and trees, not a real park with equipment and children and bottle caps everywhere, but it was quiet and away and not school, so Isaac liked it.

It was nice, sometimes, to be away from where everyone else was. He liked his friends and he liked spending time with them, and he liked having them there when he was having trouble, but nobody could be sociable all the time—sometimes Isaac needed to get away from people who knew him, leave his phone behind and just go away for a bit. 

He just…couldn’t study anymore. He knew, Isaac knew that he’d hear, ‘oh, you shouldn’t take so many breaks, you should just do it, the test is tomorrow, you’re almost done,’ but that didn’t matter. He’d been studying for so long and his brain was just fried and he couldn’t anymore. He needed an hour to just _not._

Math, Isaac reflected as he sat down under a tree and just leaned back with his eyes closed, hadn’t been this hard in his old school. Back then, math had been numbers and shapes and Isaac had been pretty okay at it.

Now math had letters in it, and Isaac shouldn’t be able to rearrange an equation to spell out ‘what the fuck.’ He didn’t know if it was because this was fancy rich people math or it all math just got harder suddenly or if it was just because Ms. Valentine was a terrible teacher and thought she was teaching a foreign language or something. 

Probably not, Isaac liked Ms. Valentine a lot actually, he just wished she could keep the numbers in math, and maybe find a way not to have tests. 

Isaac was jolted abruptly out of his despair by a cold nose on his face. 

Eyes snapping open, Isaac turned to see a huge grey mastiff right there in front of him. Isaac hadn’t even noticed him approach. “Hey, you.” He said to the dog, who was just standing there as if expecting something. 

The dog just sort of whinged, and Isaac smiled, reached out to pet him behind the ears. “What are you doing out here?” He asked, looking around for an owner. This was an awfully upscale place for someone’s dog not to be on a leash. 

No owner presented himself, but the dog did have a collar. “Did you jail break?” He asked. “Or are you lost?” The dog chuffed at him and stood still while Isaac looked at the tag. “Probably both, right?”

Dragon, the mastiff’s tag read. His vaccinations were up to date and he was microchipped. The address on the tag was on Magnolia Boulevard. “Jesus Christ.” Isaac muttered, rubbing the dog’s flank. “You’re a rich dog, aren’t you? We should probably take you home, Dragon.” He had left his phone in the dorm, so he couldn’t call the number and there was nothing for it but to walk Dragon home. Isaac didn’t think it was that far. 

At the sound of his name, Dragon started wagging his tail and nosing Isaac’s face, making Isaac laugh. “Stop, stop.” He said, not really resisting much, even then the dog started licking him. “Come on, your parents are looking for you.” Probably. What kind of snooty rich people, Isaac wondered, had a dog like this? Dragon really didn’t look the part, and rich people usually went for smaller dogs that looked regal and sharp, not huge jowly things like this guy.

Dragon wasn’t worried about his parents, obviously, and he suddenly flopped down on the ground, rolled over onto his belly for rubs, right on top of Isaac’s legs. 

Isaac couldn’t help but laugh again, even though Dragon was heavy as fuck. “Okay, okay. I’ll pet you for a little while, and then you’re going home. If I go to jail for kidnapping you, I’ll fail my math test and all that studying will be wasted.” 

Dragon just looked up at Isaac expectantly, and Isaac sighed and gave him the belly rubs that he so obviously needed. He had, to be fair to him, a lot of belly to rub. After Isaac’s legs started to go numb, so he cast around and found a fallen stick from the tree and waved in Dragon’s face, and the dog scrambled up for fetch.

The sun was starting to inch down when Dragon brought the stick back to Isaac for the hundredth time. Isaac had made a game of running away while the dog was retrieving and making Dragon work for his praise. “Alright.” Isaac panted, when Dragon flopped down on the ground beside him. Isaac flopped too and they lay there for a minute, looking up at the sky. Well, Isaac looked up at the sky. “It’s time to take you home now.” 

Dragon made a noise and got to his feet, waited politely for Isaac to do the same before trotting off in the direction of Magnolia Boulevard. So he did know how to get back home. “You weren’t lost, you little shit. You were just playing hooky, weren’t you?” 

Isaac and Dragon walked out of the park and through the increasingly opulent streets leading to Magnolia Boulevard. He wanted to check Dragon’s tag again to remember where they were going, but it was clear that the dog knew the way, so Isaac trusted him. 

Sure enough, eventually they ended up outside one of those palatial mansions that Isaac didn’t think real people lived in, and Dragon started up the driveway, stopping and looking back when he saw Isaac wasn’t following anymore. “Go on.” Isaac urged, waving his hand at the house. “It’s your house, not mine.” Maybe the people who lived her were perfectly nice, but Isaac didn’t feel welcome in a house like this. “Go on, boy.”

Dragon thought about it, came back and licked Isaac on the hand one last time. “Yeah, you’re a good dog, aren’t you? They’re lucky in there.” He patted Dragon on the head a few times before pointing back at the house, and only then did Dragon finally turn and actually go, trotting up the long driveway and getting on his hind legs to push open the gate leading to the backyard, which swung shut behind him as he disappeared. “Good boy.” Isaac muttered, smiling. 

On the way back to the academy, Isaac felt better than he had in days. 

\--

After that, Isaac and Dragon hung out at the park a lot. Isaac didn’t know if Dragon was coming to the park every day, or if it just on the weekends and it so happened that it was when Isaac was there that the mastiff would show up, but he always seemed to be there when Isaac was.

It was nice, being able to just play with a dog for a while. Isaac wasn’t used to not getting to do that, even after a few months of living in the dorms. He’d grown up around dogs, and he didn’t understand people who didn’t want them around all the time.

Isaac was not too proud to say that he was going to the park specifically to spend time with Dragon. He’d found that he needed that sometimes.

It was chilly out, just enough that Isaac probably should have brought gloves. He settled for sticking his hands in his coat pockets to warm them as he entered the park, smiling when he saw that Dragon was already sitting there under the tree waiting. He stood when he saw Isaac coming, panting.

“Hey, Dragon.” Isaac said, dropping down to his knees in front of the dog, rubbing his flanks as he did. “Did you miss me? I missed you.” 

Dragon just made a dog noise, letting Isaac pet him. 

“I hope you’re getting at least some attention at home. You’re so well behaved, I’m sure your owners aren’t just ignoring you all the time.” Isaac wasn’t sure, it seemed like the rich people who owned Dragon were never home and clearly they didn’t notice that their dog was getting out all the time. But someone had obviously put a lot of effort into training the mastiff properly, so it couldn’t be as bad as it seemed. 

Isaac moved his hand to Dragon’s head, scratching him behind the ears and rubbing his neck, grateful for how warm the dog was. Dragon chuffed at him again and leaned forward, nosing Isaac on the cheek. 

Pausing, Isaac looked at Dragon for a minute, then put his arms around the dog and hugged Dragon for a long minute. “English is really hard, Dragon.” He whispered, closing his eyes. “They’re trying to help me but it’s really hard. Do you want to write my essay for me?”

Dragon sat down, still panting in Isaac’s ear. Isaac laughed. “You’d probably get just as good a mark as me. Alright.” He pulled back, sighed, put school out of his mind for now. He hadn’t come here to waste time worrying. “Here, look, I brought you a treat.” 

The dog perked up at that, and Isaac reached into his pocket for the dog treat that he’d brought with him, giving it to Dragon to chomp down.

“So you’re the one he’s been sneaking out to see.” 

Isaac looked up at the voice, saw a young man standing there a few feet off, dressed in a heavy winter coat. Dragon turned to look at him as well, standing. He was wagging his tail. “Are you his dad?” Isaac asked, standing as well. 

“Something like that.” The man said, coming a little closer. He smiled at Isaac, patted Dragon on the head. “I noticed that he’s been getting out of the yard a lot lately and the other day I saw you bring him back. I figured I’d follow him today and see who he was visiting.”

“Sorry.” Isaac said, a little sheepish. The guy didn’t seem angry, but still. “I should have called the first time I met him.”

“It’s fine.” The man smiled again. “He always comes back anyway and it’s not like you were going to carry him off somewhere.”

Isaac laughed a little. “Yeah. He’s friendly, and you did a good job training him.” 

“Thanks. I’m Boey.” He offered his hand and Isaac shook it, even though he was never really sure what to do with people who offered their hands to shake. Neither of them was a fifty-eight-year-old man, honestly. Boey was really cute, but he was just older enough than Isaac that Isaac didn’t bother doing more than noting that. 

“Isaac.”

“You know, it’s not a great idea to approach strange dogs. I’m sure you must know that.”

“There’s no such thing as a strange dog.” Isaac said, trying not to sound defensive. “Besides, my parents run a dog shelter, I know a lot about them—I could tell he wasn’t dangerous.” 

“Oh, is that so?” That seemed to amuse Boey, but he didn’t say anything else about it. “Well, he seems to like you, or he wouldn’t have kept coming back.” 

“Is he normally picky?” Dragon didn’t seem like the type, but still. Isaac was a little proud that he’d passed the litmus test in that case.

“Yeah, kind of.” Boey knelt down now and scratched Dragon on the head. “He’s really intuitive for a dog.” He paused, looked up at Isaac. “He could probably tell you were upset earlier.”

“I…” Isaac looked away. 

“It was a very long hug to give a dog.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Isaac stuck his hands in his pockets. “Sorry. Usually I just toss a stick for him for a few hours and then take him home.”

“It’s okay. If he didn’t want you to hug him he wouldn’t have let you.”

“I know.” Isaac muttered. Dragon was much heavier than Isaac. “I should…I guess I should probably go back.”

Boey looked at him as if in surprise. “You’re not going to throw the stick for him?”

“Aren’t you going to take him home?” Isaac asked, looking down at the man. 

“He knows the way back. And he’d be disappointed if he came all the way here and didn’t get to play. He’d probably think you were mad at him.”

Isaac laughed again. “Well, I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

He hunted up a stick and dangled it in front of Dragon, who started to do a little fetch dance before Isaac tossed it and Dragon tore off across the near-frozen ground to bring it back.

Was this weird? Isaac wasn’t sure. Boey seemed nice, and he was oddly cool about Isaac hanging out with his dog on the weekends. He just sort of stood there and watched Isaac and Dragon play with a stick. 

Isaac chose to assume it wasn’t weird, and that Boey was just happy that his dog was happy. He probably didn’t have time to come to the park and do this or something. Even though he was here now.

“So.” Boey said, after Isaac had thrown the stick the fifteenth time. Dragon was bounding after it with undiminished enthusiasm, and Isaac broke off his study of him, turning his smile on Boey. “You really do like playing with him.”

“Yeah.” It hadn’t been a question, but Isaac nodded. “It’s nice.”

“Are you putting off school work, by any chance?” 

Isaac looked away again. Seemed like he was more transparent than he thought. “I just need a break from it sometimes.” He said.

“I don’t blame you.” Boey said, nodding at Dragon as he came back. Isaac took the stick and fake-threw it, but the dog wasn’t fooled and Isaac threw it for real the second time. “So what are you avoiding studying today?”

Isaac glanced at Boey, wondering why he cared. “An English essay. About _The Sound and the Fury._ ”

“What about it?” Boey asked. “There’s a lot you could say.” 

“I…haven’t decided yet.” Isaac admitted. “I just finished reading it this morning.” 

Boey nodded, watching Isaac for a second. “Do you do well in English?”

“No.” Isaac didn’t want to talk about this—he’d come here to avoid thinking about it for a while. 

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s…” Isaac didn’t, but that wasn’t the main problem. He didn’t feel like telling some stranger about the problems he had with reading, and the assessments he was having done to get tested for dyslexia, and how the tests were all designed to make him feel stupid. He didn’t feel like explaining that English made him feel like an idiot. “No.”

“Hm.” Boey nodded again, and Dragon came back with the stick. “Do you want a tutor?”

“What?” Isaac paused in retrieving the stick to look up at Boey. 

“I could tutor you. If you want. To pay you back for entertaining Dragon when we’re busy.” 

“You don’t need to…”

“He really likes you.” Boey indicated the dog, patiently waiting for Isaac to take the stick and throw it, tail wagging in the grass. For variety, Isaac turned and threw the stick to the side this time, and Dragon scrambled to turn and ran after it. “You don’t have to say yes.” Boey said. “I know you don’t know me or anything. I’m an English major at the university, so I just thought I’d offer.”

Isaac thought about it. It wasn’t a good idea, he didn’t know Boey, he might be a serial killer, or he might just be lying and secretly he was terrible at English. But he probably wasn’t any of those things and they could meet somewhere public and Isaac could tell his friends where he was going beforehand. 

And he really needed help. His friends were great but they had the same assignments he did, and the school was trying to help but they couldn’t do anything until they got a formal diagnosis for some reason. 

“I can pay you.” Isaac muttered, a little red in the face. “You don’t need to do it for free.”

“Have you seen the house that dog lives in?” Boey asked him. “You can pay me by throwing the stick for Dragon on the weekends when he escapes.”

“So you’re going to help me in English, and I get to hang out with your awesome dog.” Isaac said, breaking into a grin. “That hardly seems fair. At least let me mow your lawn or something.” 

“No, I plan to use you as an excuse to get out of seeing people I don’t like.” Boey told him, smiling back. “‘Sorry, I can’t come to your stupid party, I’m tutoring this afternoon.’ That sort of thing.”

“Works for me.” Isaac laughed a little, but sobered as Dragon came back with the stick. “I’m dyslexic.” He said, smiling down at the dog and taking the stick, tossing it again.

“Okay.”

“Just okay?” Isaac asked. “It’s going to make me harder to teach.”

“No it isn’t, it’s going to make you different to teach.” Boey said, and it was so similar to what Peter had said when he’d first asked Isaac about it and Isaac blinked. 

“I guess.” Isaac had known that, he had. But it was nice to hear someone say it. “Thanks.”

“How’s tomorrow afternoon? There’s a Tim Hortons not far from here. It’ll be busy, but not too loud.” 

Isaac nodded. That was where he had been going to suggest too. “Sounds good. Two?”

“Sure.” Boey nodded, patted Dragon on the head when he came back with the stick again. “Okay, I’ll see you then. I should go.”

“Sure, sorry for making you come all the way out here.” Isaac turned to the dog. “Bye, Dragon.”

“Are you going too?”

“Well, aren’t you taking him with you?” 

Boey shrugged. “I can if you want. You’ve always brought him home before. He sure doesn’t think he’s done playing.”

Isaac looked down at Dragon again. He was once again patiently sitting and wagging his tail, waiting for the dumb humans to stop barking so he could play. Isaac laughed a little and waggled the stick. “Thank you.” 

“See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Boey waved as he moved off. Dragon barked at him, something Isaac had never heard him do before, and Boey waved at Dragon as well before turning away. Dragon returned his full attention to the stick. 

Isaac watched Boey leave, not sure what to make of any of that, except that he was more hopeful about his immediate future than he’d been for a while. He looked down at Dragon, looking up at him. “You really are a good boy, you know.” He said, and he tossed the stick as far as he could.


	2. Locker Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I'm going to do is post these on weekends when I'm not posting in the normal story, I think. 
> 
> I don't have any sort of set plan or order for what I'll write in this au, so if anyone has anything they'd like to see, let me know!

It probably went without saying that soccer practice was Owen’s favourite time of day, and not just because he got to spend time with Gavin.

It wasn’t that he hated school or anything (it was okay), but he wasn’t made for sitting around doodling in notebooks for hours and hours. He liked to be outside, and to move around. It was a good thing somebody had invented sports, otherwise Owen would just go crazy.

Or expend all his energy on sex, maybe, but his body could only take so much of that before it started to hurt. Sports were a nice alternative while he recharged. 

Later, Owen would blame that expectation of freedom and being able to run off all his energy for the fact that he totally forgot what state Gavin had left him in until he’d already taken off his shirt in the locker room. 

“Holy fuck, Owen, did you get hit by a wolverine?” Ash asked from beside him on the bench. 

“What?” Owen looked over at him, then down at where he was looking. _Fuck._ “Oh.” He tried not to colour, and it didn’t really work. “No, this is, um…” _Fuck._

“Come on, Ash, don’t be dumb.” Warren said, appearing at Owen’s other side, pausing in the act of undoing his belt. “Those are obviously hickeys and sex-scratches.”

“No, they’re…”

“Owen has a girlfriend?”

_Fuck._ Did he have to ask so loudly? But at the same time, Owen couldn’t help the little frown he gave Ash. “You don’t have to sound so fucking surprised.”

“So you do?”

“Uh…no.” Not untrue, Owen reminded himself. If they’d asked if he’d had a _boyfriend_ , he’d have been harder pressed to evade the issue.

“Jesus, Owen.” Warren punched him on the shoulder. “She did all that to you and you won’t even call her your girlfriend? Never thought you were that much of a dick.”

“Wait, no, that’s not it…” Owen had clearly already lost this one. He should have joined the football team instead. 

“So who is it?” Ash demanded. “Come on, tell us.” Now a bunch of them were crowding around Owen, not letting him go anywhere. 

“I’m not going to tell you guys.” Owen grumbled, pretending to be annoyed instead of embarrassed. “God. I’m not a pig.”

“Oh, you’re the shittiest friend, dude, come on, we’re your _teammates._ ” Evan emphasized that like Owen was supposed to swoon like some anime character or something and open his heart. 

Owen didn’t swoon. “Screw off and get dressed.” 

“Rude.”

“Oh, hey, I bet Gavin knows.” Warren said, pointing to the door of the locker room. “Gavin!” 

Sure enough, Gavin had just stepped into the room. Owen tried not to send him distressed looks. He was going to be so mad.

“What?” Gavin asked, looking up. “What’s everyone looking at?”

“Owen. He won’t tell us who gave him all these hickeys—come on, you hang out with him all the time, who is it? Who’s his girlfriend?”

“His…” Gavin hesitated, for a second, and some of the guys parted a little so Owen could see him. He was looking at Owen a little wide-eyed, but he didn’t look annoyed. He just kind of looked amused. And fond, maybe? “Owen doesn’t have girlfriend, guys, come on.”

“Hey.” Owen said, crossing his arms. Gavin didn’t need to say it like that. He’d totally had girlfriends before. 

“Oh, come on!” Ash actually stomped his socked foot. “Obviously he does, Gavin. What’s the fucking conspiracy?” 

“Coach is going to be ticked if we’re all late for practice because you were all in here dicking around.” Gavin said, and with that he went over to his locker. Owen wanted to just reach out and make him stop before he even did anything. 

And then Gavin took off his shirt to change.

Owen closed his eyes. There was a sudden hush. 

“Holy fuck.” Warren blinked at Gavin, and more specifically at all of Gavin’s hickeys and scratches. “You too?”

“God, you’re an idiot.” Evan punched Warren now while Ash gaped. Everyone else had started chattering again. Evan turned on Owen. “So that’s how he lured you away from the football team.”

“Woah.” Owen held up his hands. “It wasn’t like that.”

It had been pretty much like that.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Gavin, help.”

“It was kind of like that.” Gavin confirmed.

“Fuck you.”

“Later.”

“Jesus Christ, Gavin.” So much for anything resembling subtlety. 

Now half the locker room was laughing at Owen. “Hold on.” Ash said, giving Owen a bit of a smack on the arm. “I’m not sure I’m okay with this.”

“Did I ask you?” Owen asked, a little surprised. 

“No, not that, Jesus.” Ash frowned. “I like Gavin. He’s our best goalkeeper.”

“I’m your only goalkeeper.” Gavin called. He still hadn’t turned around, and had slipped his pants off now too, exposing all the marks Owen had left on his thighs. 

“You don’t like me?” Owen asked, standing in a way that emphasized that he was bigger than Ash.

“Well, I liked you until I found out you were molesting my friend.”

“What?” Owen shook his head. He hadn’t had time to prepare himself for any of this. “You’ve got it backwards. I mean—” But it was too late, he’d already said it, and now he could hear Warren giggling beside him. “Oh, shut up.” He grumbled.

“Way to overshare, dude.” Evan told him.

“Wait, you guys…” Ash looked at both of them, eyes narrowed. “You didn’t have sex in _here_ , did you?”

Owen didn’t say anything, but his face must have given it away, because he immediately got ‘ews.’ “Jesus, guys.” Warren said. “Gross.”

“Oh, it was only a few times.” Gavin called. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Gavin.”

“A _few_ times?” Ash demanded, and now he was looking around as if he could find evidence. “Where? I don’t want to touch anything that your bare _anything_ touched.”

“We didn’t.”

“Right where Evan’s standing.” Gavin said, without turning around. “On that bench there, against your locker, right inside the doorway. Under a couple of the showers.”

“Gavin!” Owen didn’t try to raise his voice, but there it was. 

“Well, that’s gross and I demand that you clean every surface in this room with bleach.” Evan took a very conspicuous step away from where he’d been standing while Ash glared at his locker. “Now I’m never going to be able to take my shoes off in here again without worrying I’ll step in something.” 

Owen gave him the finger. “Whatever, you’re just jealous.” Owen resolved to ignore all of them now, and he turned around and went about changing in a civilized manner. 

Maybe they could have been a little more circumspect in here. But it wasn’t like they’d left puddles lying around. 

“So, hold on, have you guys been together this whole time or is it new?”

“The whole time.” Owen said, opening his locker and getting his kit out before taking off any more clothes. 

“Nice.” Warren patted Owen on the back. “Good job.”

“Yeah, man.” Ash said from his other side. “Congrats.”

“What?”

“Well.” Warren gestured over at Gavin. “Look at him. I’m straight but even I can see he’s a catch. Good on you.”

Well, Owen couldn’t argue with that logic. He smiled a little.

“Hey, how come nobody’s congratulating me?” Gavin demanded, coming over to lean against the lockers, already ready to go out. 

“On what, nabbing Owen?” Ash asked, making a face. 

“Hey.”

“Pay a little more attention to him in the shower later.” Gavin advised. “You’ll see what I mean.” While Owen spluttered a little, Gavin grinned. “Or don’t, I don’t need the competition.” 

“There’s no competition.” Owen assured him, looking at the floor.

“Aw.”

“Oh, God.” Evan said from behind Owen. “This is going to be you two flirting all the time now, isn’t it? What did the rest of us ever do?”

“You fucking _asked_.” Owen grumbled at him.

“I guess.” Evan admitted with a chuckle. “Can I ask something else?”

“May as well.” Owen had gotten undressed in record time and was slipping into the rest of his kit now. It wasn’t like more questions were going to hurt at this point.

“You bisexual?”

“Uh.” Owen hadn’t been expecting that. He looked over his shoulder at Evan. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Nice.” Evan offered him a fist bump. “Me too.” When Owen returned it, noticing the looks from the others that told him this was news, Evan shrugged. “Nice not to be alone, you know?”

“Yeah.” Owen smiled. “I guess it would be.” It wasn’t like Owen had been planning to come out to the team either. Knowing in advance that he had support would have helped.

He still wouldn’t have done it this way, though. 

“Come on, boys, let’s get a move on!” Coach Argent’s deep voice called into the locker room from out side. “Waste your own time later!”

That got a lot of people moving, and after a minute the locker room was emptying out. “Oh, hey.” Warren punched Owen one more time on his way by. “Get ready for the ‘don’t hurt our goalkeeper or we’ll bury you alive’ talk after practice.” A few of the others nodded.

“Guys, really?” 

“Owen only hurts me when I ask him to.” Gavin said, looking at a light fixture. 

“ _Gavin_.” Owen hissed, colouring all over again. “You’re the one who needs a fucking talk.”

“We’ll give him one too.” Evan promised.

“Wait, what?” The laughter that followed that, and the look of betrayal on Gavin’s face, cheered Owen right up. 

Gavin hung back a little while everyone filtered out onto the field, briefly taking Owen’s hand. “You handled that really well.”

“It’s not like I had a choice.” Owen sighed, grateful to be alone with Gavin, even for just a second. He brushed Gavin’s cheek with a finger. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine” Gavin smiled at him, leaned up to kiss Owen on the cheek. “They would have found out eventually. And it went well, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Owen smiled back, kissed Gavin on the forehead. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Gavin squeezed Owen’s hand, pulled him toward the field. “Let’s go practice.”

“Right.”

Soccer practice was Owen’s favourite time of day. Mostly because he got to spend time with Gavin.


	3. Date Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Franz and Gabrielle are taking their time meeting in the main timeline, so here they are being a power couple.

They walked stiffly, both looking forward in a way that made it clear that they weren’t interested in looking at anything else, especially each other. They held hands in a cursory way and held their backs straight, their heads high and proceeded down the very centre of the path.

Very few people who saw them noticed that their footsteps were completely in sync. 

When they got to the car, the driver opened the back door for them and Franz let go of Gabrielle’s hand, politely gesturing for her to get in before him. She did, and slid over so that he could join her in the back seat, and the driver closed the door behind him. 

Franz sighed, slouching in the seat. Gabrielle scratched at an itch on her scalp while she pulled out her phone. 

“Hey, did you see these up?” He asked, reached into the bag at his side and pulling out the stack of posters he and Boey had been putting up all day. They featured Dragon sitting in front of the university’s entrance sign, Franz crouching beside him, with text saying to vote for them in the upcoming student council election. 

“Yeah.” Gabrielle smiled, taking one and looking at it more closely. “If you’re not careful, they’ll all end up voting for Dragon and you’ll be shut out of the council.” 

That was a possibility that Franz had legitimately considered. The car rumbled to life and pulled out onto the road. “If that happens I’ll have to rule through him. He’ll do everything I tell him to.”

“He’ll do everything anyone tells him to if they have a treat for him.” Gabrielle countered, handing him back the poster. 

Franz nodded, slipping it back into his bag and pulling his seatbelt on. “Yeah, he’s a bit of a slut.”

“Kids these days. I blame the parents.”

“When we have kids, I’m going to train them to respond to dog treats.” Franz decided. 

“It’s cute that you think I’ll be letting them come out to the shed to see you that often.”

“You wound me, my queen.”

“Not deeply enough.” Gabrielle said, looking down at her phone now. “You’re still talking. Apparently Hector and Turner are married now.” She said, showing Franz the Facebook announcement. 

“Huh.” Franz looked at it, shaking his head. “Should we send them flowers?”

“If we sent flowers to Hector every time he thought it would be funny to get married to someone on Facebook, we’d drain the world of roses.”

“Roses are tacky.” Franz said. “I was thinking purple carnations.”

“You’re such a nerd.” Gabrielle scoffed, taking her phone back.

“The only reason you know that’s true is because you got the joke.” Franz resisted the urge to stuck his tongue out at her. “Nerd.”

“No, I’m highly educated. There’s a difference.”

“The difference is socially constructed based on different valuations of different types of knowledge and different styles of education.” Franz held up a finger to add to the point. “Talk to someone for six hours about Star Trek and tell me they’re not highly educated in their own field.” 

“I’ll pass. I have better things to do for six hours than discuss the physics of the lightsaber.”

“That’s Star _Wars._ ” Franz frowned at Gabrielle, saw her smiling. “Which you know full well, being highly educated.”

“I just wanted to see if I could get your nerd hackles up.”

“Well, it didn’t work.” Franz pretended, crossing his arms with a huff. “I’m unflappable.”

“Whatever you say, dear.” Gabrielle was still smiling. “I went for Halloween once as Captain Janeway, you know.”

“Really?” Franz snorted, picturing Gabrielle with the hair. 

“When I was little I always liked that she never ended up dating anyone on the show.” Gabrielle looked up and out the window. They were nearly to her house. “What are you doing tonight, after the thing?”

“Boey and I are going to watch _Terminator._ ” 

“Your choice, I assume.”

Franz picked at the seatbelt. “Possibly. He wanted _2012_ , but I’m not sure I can handle that much bad.”

“You with your objectively good taste.”

“Taste is overrated. What about you?” 

Gabrielle sighed. “I’ll probably work. I have that paper on nonviolent revolutions.”

“Something you know a little about.”

“How come you never seem to do work? Don’t you have assignments?” Gabrielle narrowed her eyes. “Boey does them for you, doesn’t he?”

“No.” Franz said, scandalized. “I asked him once. He told me he’d punch me next time I tried to cheat. I do all my work early in the mornings.” 

“That sounds like dirty lie.” Gabrielle eyed him for a minute longer. “Where the hell are we going tonight, anyway?”

“Some fancy seafood place, I think.” Franz had made the reservation himself, but he didn’t remember. 

“Fuck.” It was Gabrielle’s turn to slouch in the seat now. “’Fancy’ means I’m going to have to do my goddamn hair.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your hair.” Franz told her, looking at it. It was combed and everything.

“Obviously there’s nothing wrong with my hair.” Gabrielle grumbled, brushing at it with her fingers. “But that’s not how it works. Christ. What time is the reservation, six?”

“Five-thirty.” 

“Dammit.” Gabrielle sighed, checking the time on her wristwatch. “Well, I guess I know what I’m doing for the next hour and a half.”

“Hey, you’re not the only one who has to get ready.”

“Please. You’re going to dick around for eighty minutes, then shower, shave and put on a generic suit five seconds before it’s time to come pick me up.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Franz trailed off, not really having a rebuttal to that. “At least you’ll look nicer than me.”

“Why are we going to a fancy seafood place?”

“Because people who are engaged go on dates.” Franz told her, fiddling with the ring on his finger now. “And because you know the owner.”

“Who is it?”

“Dominic Purdy.”

“Right.” Gabrielle nodded. “Do you even like seafood?”

“It’s okay.” Franz shrugged. “Oh, also I happen to know that our dear friend the Minister of Education has a reservation for a seafood dinner tonight.” He’d been waiting for the right moment to drop that one into the conversation. 

“Oh.” Gabrielle straightened, looking at him, her face slowly blooming into a smile. “Well, that’s a whole other thing. I guess I’ll even wear jewellery.” 

“I think I should be offended that I wasn’t enough of an occasion for that.”

“Consider it a compliment that I know you’re not a shallow bag of dick.” Gabrielle advised, still smiling. “Oh, you get me the best presents. Do you think it will look suspicious if I bring a file folder to a fancy dinner?”

“Probably.” Franz smiled back at her. “It might come off as a little calculated. Besides, you remember all the statistics anyway. It’s a lot more intimidating that way.”

“Good.” The car came to a stop and Gabrielle looked up. “Okay, while I appreciate the value of surprise, I wish you’d told me this earlier. You’re going to need to come up with me so we can talk about this while I get ready.”

“Sure.” Franz undid his seatbelt as the driver got out. “The only reason I never told you is that I didn’t want anyone to get tipped off if we seemed too excited about a random date.”

“Fair enough.” Gabrielle nodded as the door opened and Franz slipped out of the car. “It’s a nice surprise. I like surprises, and besides, if I’d known in advance I would have spent all week thinking about it and not gotten anything else done.”

“I know.”: Franz stood, stretched. He pulled out his phone and sent a message to Boey. _Staying at Gabrielle’s until the date. Going to send Tim home to grab a suit—can you pick one out for me?_

As Gabrielle stood as well, he got a reply. _I know. It’s in the trunk already._

Franz laughed. Of course. _Thanks. Love you._

_Love you too. Looking forward to the robot movie._

Shaking his head, Franz put his phone in his pocket and adjusted his bag. “Tim, I’m going to stay here until we have to go. If you want to go back that’s fine, just let me get my suit from the trunk and be back at ten after five.”

“I’ll wait for you, sir.” Tim said, popping the trunk and taking out suit in a plastic cover.

“Prepared.” Gabrielle commended.

“Not me.” Franz took the suit and inspected it. There were two different ties, presumably so he could change based on what Gabrielle was wearing. 

“Obviously. Maybe I should marry Boey instead.”

“Boey’s better at sharing than I am.” Franz said, glancing at Gabrielle. “Your brother isn’t home, is he?”

“He’s probably at soccer practice. You’re not still afraid of him?”

“He doesn’t like me.” Franz was pretty sure Gavin was planning to kill him. 

“Lots of people don’t like you.” Gabrielle crossed her arms.

“Hey! I’m affable and charming.”

“Yeah, if that’s what you want to call it.” Gabrielle turned towards the doors. “Now get your affable and charming ass in the house so we can bully the government into hiring more teachers.” 

“Yes, your majesty.”


	4. Dungeon Raid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one might seem a little familiar to readers of the main story.

“Sometimes I feel like we’re living in a game.” 

Cal looked over his shoulder at Mick. “You think?” He asked, quickly returning his gaze to the rickety stairs, which he was lighting with his phone held aloft.

“Well, what the hell are the chances that there would actually be a trapdoor in the school that leads to this musty basement?” Mick asked, carefully following Cal, with Wes behind him. “This doesn’t happen in the real world.”

“Hm.” Cal nodded. It was all a little too cool to fit in with the usual banality of life. “Maybe. Maybe we’re secretly fictional characters, or someone’s RP characters or something.” 

Cal couldn’t help but think that Nathen would never have gone down into this spooky place of his own accord. It would have taken an entire session just for Daren and Lani to talk him into it. 

“I don’t really like the idea that whether or not this staircase can hold our weight is dependant on someone’s luck check.” Wes called from behind them both. 

“It’s held us this long.” Cal said, just as the stairs creaked ominously underneath him. “It’s fine. I just hope you guys left enough space in your inventory to hold whatever useful items we find lying around in pots down here.”

“I just hope your phone doesn’t die and strand us in the dark.”

Cal had forgotten to charge it last night. But it probably had enough battery to last a little while longer. 

“Not to mention that there’d better not be any giant rats down here for us to fight.” Mick added.

“I did forget to wear my armour.” Wes did not sound very pleased at this turn of the conversation. 

“I can heal you guys if you take any damage.” Cal promised, smiling to himself.

“What, are you going to kiss it better?”

“And get rabies.” Mick grumbled.

The light fell on flat ground—finally—and Cal sighed a little in relief. Now they just had to get back up it when they were done. “Look, we’re here.”

“In the creepy cellar under the school.”

“I wonder if there are dead bodies stored her from when they used to murder kids who didn’t hand in homework.” Wes said aloud, another light coming on to add to Cal’s as he held his own phone out. 

Mick did the same, and the three of them looked around the room as best they could. “Pretty sure that never happened.”

“Yeah, but you don’t really _know,_ do you?” Wes teased, though Cal knew he was probably the most nervous of all of them. He was channeling a little of Lani, which Cal though was fair. 

The floor was bare earth that was a little squelchier than Cal had expected. The walls seemed to be uncut stone, damp with either condensation or slime, it was hard to tell. If there were rats or anything, they hid from the light. 

A couple of dilapidated cardboard boxes were piled on one wall, and there was a half-assed wooden door leading to another room opposite the stairs. The whole room was maybe ten feet square and it smelled like must and dirt and water. 

“This is a little underwhelming.” Mick said, letting a little of Daren’s cynicism sneak in. 

Cal was thinking the same thing, but he suppressed that. “Well, a little.” He admitted, not managing to completely suppress that. “But hey, there’s probably good shit in the boxes and there’s a whole other room.” He took a bunch of pictures with his phone, just in case there was something he missed. They could always come back. 

“The skeletons are probably in the other room.” 

“Just waiting for us to come in and join them?” Cal asked, approaching the boxes to see what was in them. 

Maybe he should have brought gloves or something. 

The boxes were a lot wetter than cardboard boxes really ought to be, but when they carefully went through them, all they found was a bunch of old paper. A lot of it looked like tests, essays. “Bet we could find one of Mr. Harris’s math tests in here.” Cal commented as they carefully looked through them. Some of the paper was very frail. “I don’t think he’s changed the questions since the stone age.” 

“I always thought they got rid of this stuff after a while.” Mick muttered, peeking through a box that seemed to have lesson plans in it.

“Well, maybe ‘get rid of’ means ‘stick in the dungeon.’” Cal suggested, though Mick wasn’t wrong. He was pretty sure they were supposed to shred all this stuff. 

“They probably used this as a storage room or something.” Wes reasoned, opening the last box. “And moved everything upstairs when they realized that it was too fucking creepy.”

And inconvenient, Cal thought, but Wes wasn’t wrong. “But that doesn’t explain why there’s a treasure map with this place marked on it.” He said, frowning down at someone’s essay on _Pride and Prejudice._ The date on it was November 14th, 1957, for a Mr. Yates. The student’s name was Maryan Matheson. 

“Someone must have used it for something other than storage at some point.” Wes shook his head. “This one’s just a bunch of reports on stuff.” 

“Should we check in the other room?” Mick asked, to some nods. They all got up and went to the door, and Mick turned the handled. “It’s locked.”

“I’ll get it.” Cal had a cheap lockpick he’d gotten from the Internet. 

“Hopefully you’ve been levelling up your dexterity.” Wes poked him. 

“Guess we’ll find out.” Cal wasn’t the best at picking locks, but he’d managed it a few times. The lock on this door was one of those old ones that was probably opened with some huge metal key, and sure enough, it gave way pretty easily under Cal’s not particularly dextrous hands. 

The door creaked open in an appropriately spooky manner. “You should really give up the priesthood and go into thievery instead.” Mick patted Cal on the back. 

“If everyone else would show up once in a while, maybe I wouldn’t have to serve as both.” Cal grumbled. Nathen’s profile had diversified quite a bit since their D&D group had started shrinking. 

“The real reason you started doing it was because you don’t like relying on Beatrice—even when she is there.”

“Whatever.” Cal waved his hand, pushing the door the rest of the way open and holding the light aloft again to see what was in there.

It was an even smaller room, more exposed earth and bare stone, and some very rusty pipes running up from an ancient boiler in one corner and through the ceiling. “I wonder what we’re under.” Cal muttered, thinking. Nathen would have memorized the map and known immediately. 

“The gym’s locker room, most likely.” Mick told him.

“I wonder if it was always there or that pipe used to lead somewhere else.”

“Did they have locker rooms in the fifties?” Cal wanted to know.

“I think you vastly overestimate how barbaric the past was, Cal.” Wes said.

“They didn’t have the Internet or soap.” Cal protested, stepping into the room properly so the other two could come with him. “Or, like, rights.”

There was another cardboard box in the corner near the boiler, which was a strange place for a box, Cal thought. It definitely wasn’t treasure, but there was some something strange about this whole setup. He took another step, moving the light around to see if there was anything else. 

A sharp intake of breath behind him. “Fuck.” Wes said. He sounded scared.

“What?” Cal asked, turning. “Rats?”

It wasn’t rats. 

“Oh, fuck!” Cal took a step backwards, stumbling a bit. Wes hurried into help him up, while Mick held up his light to illuminate the wall near the door.

And the skeleton that was sitting there. 

“Holy fuck.” Mick whispered. Wes’s hands were on Cal’s shoulders, and Cal could feel them shaking. “Fuck, guys. What the hell.”

Why did a map that Cal had found in the card catalogue of the library mark a basement with a dead body in it?

“We have to get out of here.” Wes said, maintaining a tight grip on Cal.

“Wes, are you okay?”

“No, but…we have to go. We have to call the police.”

“He’s right.” Cal nodded, not able to take his eyes off the bones. They didn’t look like that on TV. “This is like a crime scene or something. Crap, I wish we hadn’t touched all that stuff out there.”

“There’s no service down here.” Mick sounded a little faint, and Cal reached out and grabbed his hand for comfort. “We have to go upstairs.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Some things, Cal thought as they made their way up the rickety stairs and out of the dark cellar, were better left to games and stories.


	5. Daylight Savings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to be topical. This happened. Then it got a little nsfw (which was bound to happen eventually), but only for like five sentences and then we get back to the regularly scheduled cute.

“James.”

“Ng.”

“James, wake up.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Go away.”

“I’m not going away.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

The blankets rustled. “No, I don’t,” James admitted. “But go away. I’m tired.”

“You need to get out of bed.” Ron sighed, sat down on the edge of the bed. “It’s late.”

“Time is a social construct,” James grumbled, grabbing the blankets and rolling to face away from Ron. “Besides, how the hell do you know it’s late? Apparently we can just arbitrarily decide to change what time it is. It might be early.”

“It’s not like this is the first time you’ve lived through Daylight Savings Time, James.”

“No,” James confirmed. “And it’s just as bad this time as it is every year. I’ll wake up in October when time goes back to normal.”

Ron chuckled. “You can’t stay in bed for six months.”

“That sounds like a challenge.” James tightened his grip on the blankets. “I can stay in bed for an extra hour.”

“It’s four o’clock in the afternoon.”

“It’s _three o’clock_ in the afternoon,” James corrected. “If you start participating in this conspiracy I’ll break up with you.”

Ron closed his eyes for a second, just resisting the urge to laugh. “Fine,” he said, standing. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed back on the bed, prying some of the blankets away from James so he could get under the them too. 

“What are you doing?”

“Cuddling,” Ron told him, managing to get inside the cocoon and pulling the blanket tight around both of them, spooning James from behind. James was in his underwear too and the contact was nice. “If you’re going to stay in bed, then I’ll stay in bed with you.”

“That’s very nice of you,” James grumbled, shifting a little for a better position. “Stop being nice when I’m not. It makes me seem unreasonable.”

“How late did you stay up last night?” Ron asked, wrapping an arm around James’s middle and taking his hand. 

“I don’t know. The clock said six, but that might have been a lie.” James paused for a second. “ _Battlestar Galactica_ is really good.”

Ron smiled. “I thought you’d like it.” He’d thought James might like it at a sensible time of day, but probably he ought to have known better. 

“I like the president. I hope she’s not secretly a Cylon. Don’t tell me if she is.”

“I won’t.”

James nodded, and was quiet for a minute before he sighed and suddenly shifted, loosening his death grip on the blanket and turning around to cuddle Ron from the front, wrapping an arm up under Ron’s shoulder. “This is nice.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m a bit hungry.” 

“That might be because you haven’t eaten today,” Ron suggested. Josephine had told him when he’d come in that James hadn’t left his bed all day in protest against the time changing. 

“Maybe. If I get out of bed, will you make me pancakes?”

“I’d make you pancakes anyway.” Ron kissed James on the forehead. 

“I’m not staying in the bed without you.”

“That’s a pretty sudden change of opinion.”

“You’d have pretty sudden changes of opinion too if you had an almost naked you in your bed.”

“I often have an almost naked me in my bed and it rarely changes my opinion on anything.”

“Ha, ha.” James was smiling, though. “Why are you only almost naked?”

Ron shifted his grip on James a little. “I didn’t want you to think I only wanted you to wake up for sex.”

“But that was one of the reasons, right?”

“Well.” Ron was definitely getting hard now. “I mean, I wasn’t planning on saying no if it came up.”

“Didn’t it occur to you that I might only be willing to get up for sex?”

“I was saving that as a last resort.”

“Hm.” James was hard too, and without changing his position at all, he started slowly grinding his hips against Ron. “Don’t move.”

“I’ll try,” Ron whispered, swallowing as James kept. 

“Don’t try. Just don’t move.”

“Yes, sir.” Ron did as he was told, keeping as still as he could possibly manage while James grinded against him. He was massively regretting the boxer shorts now, the fabric was just in the way, it didn’t need to be there, they would both be better off if it weren’t, and…

It wasn’t long before Ron got sort of lost in sensation and in the effort of not moving, James breathing hard on his chest, and after who knew how long, it was white, everything was white for a minute, and James curled up around him, and then they were both panting and everything was nice even if Ron was going to need a change of underwear now. 

“Now I really don’t want to get up,” James said after a long moment of recuperation. 

“Me either.” Ron would be perfectly happy laying here like this for the rest of the day. 

“I still want pancakes, though.”

Ron laughed. “We’ll get up when you’re ready.” 

“Has grandma left for her meeting yet?”

“She was getting ready when I got here.” 

James nodded sleepily. “Let’s give her some time to leave. Then we don’t have to get dressed.” 

That, Ron suspected, was an excuse to stay in bed a while longer. But he was okay with that. “Good thing I started keeping a change of clean clothes here,” he muttered vaguely. 

“About that.”

Ron paused for a second. “You’re wearing my spare boxers, aren’t you?”

“Yes. They’re not clean anymore.”

“That’s okay.” Ron chuckled a little. “Maybe I’ll wear them home anyway.”

Ron swore he could feel James heat up against his chest. “Don’t make me hard again,” he warned. “I’m too tired.”

“Wouldn’t that mean you’re too tired to punish me if I do?” Ron asked, feeling a little cheeky.

“Don’t push it. And stop trying to distract me from the pancakes.”

“Do you want blueberries or apples in them?”

James didn’t answer for a while. “Both.” 

Downstairs, they heard the front door close. “She’s gone.”

James nodded. “She’ll be gone for a while. We don’t have to get up yet.”

“Okay.” Ron held James a little tighter, content. “This is really nice.”

“Yes.” James yawned, snuggling a little. “It is. Thank you, Ron.”

“For what?”

“For being here.”

“I’ll always be here.”

“Good.”

They stayed like that for another hour.


	6. Driving Lesson

As soon as he sat in the seat, Pax felt important. He felt big. He felt strong. He felt like he could go anywhere he wanted. Do anything he wanted. Pax felt powerful.

“Do up your seatbelt, Pax.”

“Right.” Pax nodded to himself and did as Nate said, clicking the seatbelt into place. 

“Make sure you adjust the seat properly.”

Pax glanced sideways at Nate, who was now sitting in the passenger seat, and was therefore the inferior in this car. “Are you implying that I’m not tall enough to use the seat the way it is?”

Okay, maybe now that Nate had said that, he was sitting a bit far back, but now that Pax had chosen to take a moral stand on this, he couldn’t well back down. Not backing down from serious moral issues was Pax’s way of life, after all. 

“If we get into an accident because you couldn’t reach the pedals, I’m breaking up with you.”

“Well.” Pax huffed a little, before adjusting the seat so he could reach everything properly. “I hardly think you need to resort to such emotional manipulation, Nate, I’m fragile, you know.”

“So am I—my body won’t survive hitting a brick wall at a hundred kilometers an hour.” 

“I think you’re overreacting.” Honestly, did Nate have to be so melodramatic about _everything_? He really needed to ground himself better in reality, like Pax was. 

“I’m having that carved onto our mutual tombstone,” Nate deadpanned.

Pax paused, looking at Nate properly now. “You want us to be buried together?”

Nate didn’t answer for a second, apparently a little taken aback by the question. “Well, I mean, not that I was planning on dying anytime soon, but yeah, I guess.”

Pax smiled. He would have leaned over and given Nate a kiss, but the seatbelt stopped him. “I love you too, Nate.”

“Are you going to drive?”

“Right.” Pax nodded, looked around at all of the car things inside the car. There were a lot of meters and dials and buttons. Why did Natalie have to have one of those fancy space cars? Couldn’t she just have a normal car like everyone else? Pax would have to write a letter to Kia telling them that this model of car was way too complicated and that it needed some changes. They probably would tell him that they’d updated their cars since ten years ago when they’d built this one, but Pax had a feeling they’d probably only added more things to the dashboard. 

“Pax?”

“Um. What do I do?” Pax was trying to remember what he’d read in the book. He had a perfect memory, so it wasn’t that he didn’t remember what was in the book, it was that he’d also read the books for a few other provinces and a few other countries to compare, and he was having a hard time keeping straight what he’d read in the right book. 

“You know what to do, Pax,” Nate said, and he was very calm, and that made Pax a little calmer too.

Taking a breath, Pax nodded, looked around at all the things on the dashboard. “Right. I have to check all the mirrors to make sure there’s nothing around the car.” 

So that was Pax did, carefully looking in them all twice, just in case, and hoping that there weren’t any vampires out there. But if there were, he reasoned, it wasn’t like he was going to kill them. All the mirrors just showed various angles of the empty church parking lot Nate had driven them to. “Now I have to press the brake and turn on the car.”

“So far, so good.” 

Nate was so encouraging. Pax would thank him for that later, when he wasn’t worried that he was about to blow them up. He turned the key. The engine whirred to life. Everything was fine. So far. 

“Now you can take the car out of park,” Nate suggested.

“Well, I guess so,” Pax agreed, though if he did that the car wouldn’t stay parked. Suddenly Nate’s worry about being turned into a church mural seemed a lot more realistic. Did churches have murals? Pax had been in a few churches but he didn’t really remember. If they did, they probably weren’t made of dead motorists. He pulled on the gear shift and put the car in drive.

“Don’t press too hard on the gas,” Nate advised, as Pax took his foot tentatively off the brake, jolting a little when the car inched forward. 

“Okay.” Pax could do this. He knew all about this. He’d learned all about this. He probably knew more about how cars worked than the person who’d built this car. A robot had probably built this car, and robots didn’t know anything, no matter what the movies said. He eased his foot onto the gas. 

The car moved forward. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Nate.” Pax watched out the windshield as things moved. “Nate, I’m driving the car.”

This was the most exciting thing Pax had ever done.

“You’re doing good, Pax.” Nate was smiling at him. “You can go a little faster if you want.”

“Right.” Pax already felt like he was going pretty fast. The speedometer disagreed, the needle hovering around ten. He pushed a little on the gas. The car lurched forward, picking up speed as it headed towards the church.

“You might think about turning now.”

“I was already thinking about turning.” Pax didn’t want to knock down God’s house. Even if he wasn’t Christian, that didn’t seem like a very good idea. Kind of like tempting fate. “Which way should I turn?”

“You’re driving the car, Pax. You decide which way to turn.”

Left seemed like a good way to turn, so Pax checked to make sure that a horde of schoolchildren hadn’t suddenly materialized on that side and pulled on the steering wheel. The car swung that way, a beast tamed by Pax’s driving prowess. He went a little faster, then went back the way they’d come from, putting his foot on the brake when he judged that they were about where they’d started. “Oh, wow. I drove the car.”

“Good job.”

“That felt amazing.” Pax’s blood was flowing. It was probably flowing normally, but it felt like it might be flowing more now. He wanted to dance in the seat. “Does driving always feel that good? Do you always feel like that when you drive, Nate?”

“Yes, a little bit.” Nate was grinning like a fool. His knuckles were white on his legs and he was sweating a little. 

Pax narrowed his eyes. “Why do you look so relieved?”

“I don’t.”

“I’m an expert in reading human emotion, Nate. Were you worried? Did you think I was going to crash?” Stupid Nate, no faith. Not even here, in the sacred ground of the Methodist church’s parking lot. 

“Of course not, Pax.” Nate laughed a little. “I just understand how mom felt when she taught me how to drive. It’s a bit terrifying even if you’re not worried.”

Pax nodded, supposing that was a satisfactory explanation. “Thank you for teaching me, Nate. I…I really appreciate it. There wasn’t ever really, you know, anyone to teach me something like this, if I’d needed it. Before, I mean.”

“I know, Pax.” Nate reached out and put his hand over Pax’s on the steering wheel. “I’m here now, okay? You’re not alone.”

“I know.” Pax blinked his vision clear. He didn’t want to impair his driving. “That means more to me than you understand.”

“I understand. I love you too, Pax.”

Pax nodded, trying to compose himself.

“Do you want to go in another circle?”

“Of course I want to go in another circle.” Pax nodded again, taking a breath and bringing himself back into the car. There was an entire parking lot here for him to drive around. There were even some roads out there, once he was confident that he could make the car move consistently. 

“Drive on, then.”

“Right.” Pax pushed on the gas again. The car moved. It was the second best feeling in the world. The first was knowing that Nate was here with him in the passenger seat.


	7. Day Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this one is that of folkendefanel on Tumblr, who suggested James working in a herbal store that doesn't traffic in homeopathic garbage. :)

“Alright, I’m out of here.”

“Okay.”

“You guys want to come?”

“No. We’re working.”

“Work’s for losers, kid.”

“Why’d you hire me, then?”

“So I wouldn’t have to work.” Spike ruffled James’s hair, then picked up the pointed hat from the counter and plopped it on James’s head. “Stop stripping out of your uniform. We got a dress code around here.”

“Yesterday you came in in a bathrobe,” James pointed out, not looking up from what he was drawing at the counter. 

“Yeah, but I’m not the local witch.” 

“I regret ever meeting you.”

“You love me. Anyway.” Spike turned his head to include Ron, who had paused in putting bars of organic soap on the shelf to watch this exchange. Spike was dressed today, in an honest-to-God tunic and cargo shorts. “You two don’t get up to anything fun while I’m gone. And if you do, make sure there aren’t any customers around.” He winked, and Ron looked away, pretending he hadn’t heard. James just rolled his eyes—which Ron didn’t see, but he could pretty much hear it. “See ya.”

And Spike was gone, the little bell dinging over the door as he went. As far as Ron could tell, he never actually did any work at this store that he supposedly owned, or at least he hadn’t since he’d conned James into working for him part-time that had turned into most of the time. Ron helping out had been a natural consequence of that.

To Spike’s credit, he paid way better than the grocery store and there were way fewer customers in this weird little herbal remedies-slash-occultist hobby shop that always smelled bitter. 

Ron went back to stocking the shelves, and James continued drawing. When Ron finished, he wandered over to the counter and leaned against it. James was really cute in that hat, even if he hated it. He’d worn it once as a joke and the customers had gone nuts for it. Now the store advertised that they had a witch on staff and James was perpetually angry about it. “That looks pretty magical,” he commented, nodding down at the arcane circle James was sketching.

“It’s a spell for this man who came in and wanted something to help with nightmares. He bought some herbs. Spike offered him a discount on a spell.” James sighed. 

“You put a lot of effort into it for something that you think is so silly,” Ron told him, watching the way James’s hands moved over the paper. 

“Magic isn’t something you do halfheartedly, even if it’s pointless,” James said, face totally straight. 

“You see,” Ron straightened, frowning, “you say stuff like that and it makes it hard for me to believe that you don’t have actual magical powers.”

“Believe whatever you like, Ron, I’m not stopping you,” James said, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

“Stop doing that.” Magic powers weren’t real. Probably. 

“No.”

Ron made a face, but James didn’t notice, and so he went into the back room to put the soapboxes away. There, he snatched his phone from his coat pocket and came out to the storefront again, waiting until he was sure James wasn’t looking to point it at him.

“If you take a picture of me in this, I’ll hex you.”

Ron frowned. He didn’t believe in hexes.

He didn’t.

He put his phone away, for unrelated reasons. 

The bell dinged again and Ron looked up, putting on a retail smile for the young woman who’d just come in. She was slipping her phone into a hemp purse and looking around the shop. “Hello.” 

“Hello.” She said, eyes moving from Ron to James, which most people’s did upon coming into the store. From there, her gaze went to the shelves of herbs behind the counter, and a small frown crossed her face as she approached the counter. Ron went to go fix the mess that some customer had made of the crystal display. 

“Can I get some arnica?” the lady asked James, still looking at the wall of herbs.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no,” James told her, still not looking up. Ron quietly shook his head. How he managed to get away with such shitty customer service skills was a mystery. 

Well, not really. It was because he did all the work so Spike could spend time frolicking with everyone in his weird commune. Or at least Ron was choosing to pretend they were just frolicking. 

“My homeopath told me I need it.”

Oh, here they went. Ron took the organization of the display way more slowly than he needed to. It was always fun watching this play out. 

“Your homeopath is an idiot.”

“Well, he’s going to haunt the shit out of you for that, spirits rest his soul,” The woman prayed. Ron could hear James rolling his eyes again. “He was a master of traditional medicine—he studied in Nepal under a bunch of monks.” 

“Maybe he’ll get reincarnated as a real doctor,” James suggested. “Arnica is poisonous. The only way to ingest it without making your stomach bleed is to take it highly diluted, which prevents any curative power that it actually has—which is questionable anyway.” James reached under the counter, pulled out an old-timey looking book and handed it over to the lady. It was called, Ron knew, _Plant Myths_ , and only because James’s preferred title, _Homeopathic Garbage and How It Will Kill You, You Idiot_ , hadn’t fit on the cover when he’d designed it. “Tell me what’s wrong with you, I can give you something that works and won’t kill you.”

“You’re what, in like high school? I think I’ll stick with the wisdom of the Himalayas, kid. I want to talk to your manager.”

James must have finished his drawing, because finally he straightened, putting down the pen as he stretched, and actually looked at the customer for the first time. “I’ll let him know next time I see him. He’ll probably be in sometime tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be right back.” That last part was said over the woman’s shoulder, to Ron, who nodded. James picked up the paper and took it into the back room, ignoring the customer. 

She rounded on Ron, sadly. “I’m just the help,” he said, before she could ask him for some poison. “Here to organize the shelves.”

“Is…” The woman cast a glance over her shoulder. “Is he always like that?”

“He just gets upset when he hears about quacks trying to kill people, is all.” Ron hid his annoyance at this lady’s attitude well. He’d worked retail for a while now.

The woman frowned some more. “Is…he a real witch?” she asked in a whisper.

Looking up from the table with the crystals, Ron gave his best approximation of James’s little smile. “Magic isn’t something you go around playing games with.”

Unfortunately, that seemed to convince her, because she stuck around until after James had come out of the back, and immediately launched into a huge explanation of all her health issues and the problems she was having with her chi. James listened patiently until she was finished.

As the lady was talking, the bell dinged again and another customer came in, a guy about Ron’s age who was trying and failing to grow a beard that he probably thought was mysterious. He smiled at Ron’s greeting and started wandering around poking at things. Moving away from the crystal table, Ron tried not to be obvious about keeping an eye on him. 

“I can give you some herbs that I think will help,” James told the woman at the counter. “Just give me a minute.”

As James turned away and went to pulling jars off the shelf behind him, the woman shifted a little. “That’s great. Isn’t there also anything a little more…spiritual you could do?”

James paused in taking jars down to glance over his shoulder. “The herbs should work fine for what you’ve described.” Some look must have crossed the woman’s face, because he continued. “I could, though. If you think it will help.”

“I just like to be extra-sure, you know?”

“Alright, just give me a minute.” James got down, carefully measured out some herbs into smaller packets and then wrote a bunch of notes down. “Here. Take a pinch of this once a day in water, this one at night after you’ve eaten, keep this one away from cats—it’ll kill them—and only take this one when you’re not tired. Ron, will you bring me one of the healing stones, please?”

“Sure.” Ron had been trying to straighten some glass orbs without smudging them—without much success—but went back to the table to grab a round blue stone that cost thirty-five dollars, because magic was a racket, as it turned out. 

He handed the stone to James, who smiled at him and turned back to the woman. The young man had come near the counter now and was looking interestedly at the book of spells that they had on display to tell people what James could do.

“Hold your hand out like this,” James was telling the woman as Ron went into the back for glass cleaner. By the time he found it and came back out, James had his hand over the woman’s, and she was watching him in fascination as he stood there with his eyes closed, doing magic, maybe.

Even though magical powers didn’t exist.

James exhaled loudly as Ron started carefully cleaning the glass orbs. “There.”

“Oh, wow,” the woman said. “I feel so much better already. You’re amazing.”

“If you hold that stone in your hand like that for ten minutes every night—and also take the herbs according to the instructions—you should feel a lot better.” 

“Thank you so much. I’m so sorry for not believing in you. What do I owe you?”

“Sixty-six dollars.” 

“Daylight robbery,” she declared. “I should be paying you twice that.”

A rustle of paper. “Here’s a list of our recommended charities if you want to spend more money.” Ron smiled to himself. That had been his idea. 

A moment later, the woman said “I’ll definitely be coming back soon.”

“Hopefully not too soon,” James said, in a tone that was probably going to be taken for joking. “That would mean the remedies didn’t work.”

Laughing dutifully, the woman—finally—left the store with a ding. 

Ron wanted to audibly sigh, but the other customer was still here, so he just moved to start cleaning the windows since he had the cleaner out. 

“That was impressive,” the other customer said. Something about his tone immediately put Ron on edge. “Are you the real deal? A witch, as advertised?” 

Ron kept cleaning the window, but now he was keeping an eye on the counter. On his first day here, Spike had told him that it would be his job to politely or impolitely remove anyone who decided to be an asshole to James. 

Ron didn’t need to be told to impolitely remove anyone who was an asshole to James. 

“Depends on what you think a witch is,” James told the guy with a sigh, the stool scraping on the floor as he put the herbs away. “Can I help you find something?”

“I need some aconite.”

“We don’t sell poisons.”

“Well, I’m not going to poison anyone with it.” The guy—or ‘the asshole,’ as Ron was already mentally considering him—leaned against the counter on crossed arms. 

“Then what’s the point?” 

“I guess you’d make fun of me if I told you my homeopath prescribed it.”

James audibly rolled his eyes again. 

“I need it for a spell.”

Ron looked over his shoulder at the asshole, who looked way too comfortable leaning against the counter. 

James didn’t seem all that fazed. “What kind of spell?”

The asshole looked a little nervous, but Ron read it as an act. “An exorcism.”

“Use basil. It’s not poisonous and you can buy it in a grocery store.”

Ron finished on the first window and moved to the other one, which was closer to the counter. 

The asshole had paused at that, but now he seemed to be smiling. “You are the real deal, aren’t you?”

“Do you think they give these hats out to just anyone?”

The asshole laughed. Ron wanted to punch him. “It wasn’t listed in your little book, but maybe I could get you to do the exorcism for me?”

“I’m not an exorcist.” James shook his head. “I could give your contact information to my cousin if you want.”

“Hm, don’t worry about it. I’m sure I can handle it,” the asshole told James. “How about I get you to do this for me instead?” He was holding the little book in one hand, open. 

“A protection spell will only help so much. I can do it if you want to spend eighty dollars, but you’d be better with a proper exorcism.”

“Hm. You’re very principled. I don’t really need an exorcism.” 

“I know,” James said, and even Ron knew that. The asshole was a bad liar. “Are you going to tell me what you do need? I can’t read minds.” That was said with a bit of a smile in Ron’s direction, which Ron only noticed because he was turning away from the window. Ron smiled back, making his way past the counter to go in the back and put the cleaner away.

“I’m looking for a teacher. I think I’ve gone as far as I can self-teaching in the craft. You’re the first witch I’ve met who’s actually legit.”

Ron disappeared into the back room, but he could still hear James’s reply. “I’m not a good teacher. I can put you in touch with the local coven if you like.”

“I think I’d do better one-on-one,” the asshole said, and even from back here Ron could hear his tone and he didn’t like it. He made his way back out into the front. “I think there’s a lot we could learn from each other, you know?”

“Excuse me,” Ron said to James, getting behind the counter under the pretense of needing to get the very witchy looking broom in the corner there. It was actually shit at cleaning the floor, but Spike was more interested in the aesthetic of the store than he was in the health code anyway. 

“Training isn’t one of the services we offer, sorry. I have some pamphlets if you want.”

The asshole smiled. “I think you should give me a chance. You might be surprised.”

“Excuse me again.” Ron said, pressing behind James with the broom. “Thanks,” he said, once he was past. And, before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned in and kissed James on the cheek before going off to sweep the far end of the store.

He didn’t bother pretending he couldn’t see the look on the asshole’s face as he went by. 

By the time the asshole had turned back to James, he was being presented with a pamphlet. “Call the number on here. The coven can help you a lot better than I can.”

The asshole looked at James for a minute, before taking the pamphlet and sticking it in his pocket. “Thanks,” he muttered, turning away from the counter without another word and leaving the store.

Ron smiled to himself.

A moment later, James came over and joined him near the jewelry. “That was uncharacteristically assertive of you.”

“He was hitting on you,” Ron said, sweeping a bit more aggressively than necessary.

James frowned a little. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Yes, he was,” Ron insisted.

“So, what?” James asked, smiling a little. “That was you asserting ownership?”

“Of course not,” Ron muttered, face warm. “I just thought you might get mad if I kicked in him the balls.” 

James chuckled, taking Ron in his arms. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you possessive before. It was very cute.” James leaned up and gave him a kiss, or tried to. The brim of his hat stopped him from getting too close, so James took it off to complete the kiss. “Thank you for scaring him away. He was annoying.”

“Anytime,” Ron promised, kissing James back. “Don’t tell Spike I made a customer leave.”

“Spike would have punched him.”

“I thought he was a pacifist.”

“He has an interesting interpretation of the word ‘nonviolent.’”

They held each other for a minute longer before James pulled back, still smiling. “I need to do some inventory. We’re running low on a few things.”

“Do you want help?”

“I’ll be okay.”

As he went, Ron grabbed him by the arm. “Hold on.”

“What?”

“You’re out of uniform.”

James just looked at Ron. Ron grinned. 

James put the hat back on.


	8. New Horizons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone on Tumblr requested sheltered Pax finding something scandalous on the internet and appealing to Nate for an explanation. So here is my interpretation of that.

Pax didn’t understand what was going on. He was looking at the screen and he knew all of the words that were being displayed here on this website he’d ended up on because he was highly literate, but they were in combinations he’d never seen before and configurations that didn’t make sense, and there were just so _many of them_. 

“Nate.” 

“Pax.” 

“Look at this for me.” 

Nate did, leaning over from his game to look at Pax’s screen. They were sitting beside each other on Nate’s bed—their bed—wasting time before they went to sleep. They’d done it often enough that Nate being shirtless was only a little distracting now. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Do you know what this is?”

“Yeah.” Nate nodded, looking up from the screen to Pax, who wasn’t about to say it out loud. “Do you…not?”

Pax took a moment not to answer, before nodding. “Of course I do. I was just checking to see if you did. Sometimes I’m not sure, there are a lot of things that I know that you don’t, like about those tigers that live in the office attic that you won’t let me go in, or the huge snakes in the sewers and the history of illegal alcohol production in this town during prohibition.”

“Did we have prohibition up here?”

“Yes, we just don’t glamourize it as much. Anyway, the point is I know about a lot of things and I just wanted to see if you did too, but you do, so you can go back to your game now, it looks like you’re about to die.” 

Nate glanced at his screen, hit a button and made his character jump over a pit, because even virtual Nate was graceful. “Okay,” he said, smiling at Pax before turning back to his screen properly. 

Pax went back to scrolling in silent confusion for a few more minutes, growing increasingly distressed as he tried to figure out what was happening. “Hypothetically,” he said after a minute, and then he saw Nate was fighting a big car-tree-thing that looked like a boss, so he fell quiet. 

“I’m listening.”

“I can wait until you kill that. You’re very violent and I know how you are about being distracted while you’re channelling your violent urges into pixels. I wouldn’t want you to channel them into me instead.”

“I’d never do that, Pax,” Nate said, and for a moment Pax felt like he had Nate’s full attention even though there was still a monster on the rampage. 

“I know.” Pax felt a bit bad for even bringing it up, but he kept quiet, no longer scrolling but rather watching Nate fight the boss. 

When it was eventually defeated, turning into a flock of birds—surprise—before disappearing, Nate saved the game and then looked up at Pax. “Hypothetically.” 

“Hypothetically,” Pax took a breath, nodded at his laptop again. “If, hypothetically, you had to, say, explain this in an introductory manner to a hypothetical person who didn’t know what it was, maybe because he was hypothetically raised by criminals and therefore hadn’t had access to the internet until recently, and maybe was kind of confused about what it was, how would you hypothetically explain it to him?”

Nate snorted a little, which turned into a chuckle. “Asking for a friend?”

“No, nobody actually asks for their friends and the people who do don’t have friends,” Pax looked away for a second. “I was just testing your teaching abilities, that’s all. In a hypothetical capacity so as to mitigate any damage that might be done to real developing minds if you screw it up. Though I have every confidence that you won’t. I wouldn’t be dating you if I didn’t think you were good at things, even if I sometimes make inappropriate jokes about how you aren’t. You shouldn’t listen to those.”

Nate put his arm around Pax, who scooted in closer on instinct. He liked being close to Nate. “You’ve never heard of fanfiction?”

“Let’s assume that’s true.” 

“It’s when people write stories with characters from TV shows or video games or whatever. I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it, since you rewrite every movie we’ve ever watched together.”

Pax shifted a little, just a tad embarrassed. “Just because they could be a lot _better_ and I feel like the people making them don’t realize that.” 

“That’s all these people are doing. Writing the story the way they wanted it to be.” 

“Huh.” Pax scrolled a bit more. “It seems like most of them wanted the characters to be sleeping with each other in configurations different from what happened in the story.”

“Well, yeah.” Nate shrugged. “I mean, you got mad when Captain America and the Winter Soldier didn’t kiss in the end of the movie.” 

“That’s because that was _narratively logical_ , Nate,” Pax grumbled. He was still a bit sore about that. 

“You’d find a lot of people who agreed with you on this site.” 

“Huh,” Pax repeated. “And so I could just…go through this and find someone who wrote a version of the story where that happened. That’s…cool.” 

“Yeah, it’s pretty sweet.”

“A lot of people seem to have spent time thinking about how the characters would have sex in, um, detail.” 

“Are you surprised?”

Pax wasn’t. “Just as many seem to want them to work in coffee shops and bookstores. Why would Sherlock Holmes work in a bookstore?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

Pax tried to come up with an argument for that, found he couldn’t. “Okay, I guess. Well, all right. I guess that was a good explanation, Nate. If I ever meet anyone who doesn’t know what this website is all about, I’ll let you explain it.” 

“You know,” Nate said, taking one of Pax’s hands and kissing it. “I wouldn’t make fun of you for not knowing something. I wouldn’t think less of you.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” Pax tried to keep his eyes averted, but he ended up looking at Nate anyway. “That’s why I asked. Sort of. Six months ago I wouldn’t have said anything.” 

“I know.” Nate kissed him again. “I’m glad you did.” 

“I love you.”

“Love you too. Do you want to go bed?”

It wasn’t that late yet. “I’m going to look at this for a bit longer. I can go downstairs if you want to turn the light off.”

“No, it’s fine. I can do another level.” 

Quiet fell except for the beeps from Nate’s game, and Pax kept looking through the website, finally working up the courage to click on a few things that looked interesting and give them a read. It was oddly entertaining, more than he’d expected. It made him like the story more than he already had, in a strange way. 

A moment later, though, he frowned. “This person is wrong.”

“About what?”

“These two characters would never date. They hate each other.” 

“Maybe that’s the appeal.”

“I should tell them they’re wrong.” He’d noticed it was possible to leave comments on things to let people know what he thought. Pax had a lot of thoughts, so he appreciated the option. 

“No, you shouldn’t,” Nate told him, not looking up. 

Pax looked over at him, noticing that now he was fighting bunnies with wheels. “Why not?”

“Because who cares if their interpretation is different than yours? They put a lot of work into it, they’re not hurting anyone and you’re not an asshole.”

Pax narrowed his eyes at Nate. “Damn. I hate it when you remind me of that last thing.” It would be kind of douchey of Pax to pick a fight over something so silly. 

Even if that person was wrong. 

“That’s what I’m here for, love.” 

“Is that shadow in the top corner supposed to be getting closer to you?”

Nate jerked a little. “Shit, fuck.”

Pax took that as a thank you and sighed, looked back at the story with mild disdain. He guessed it wasn’t _that_ bad as a concept. He just wouldn’t read it. 

Who was he kidding, he was curious and that was his main weakness in all things. He clicked the link. 

It was pretty all right, as far as things that were wrong went.


	9. Family Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of those encounters that I've been looking forward to for ages, just because it's fun.

“Excuse me.”

“Sorry.”

“Hey!”

“Yeah?”

“Ron!”

“Owen?”

Ron blinked, turning fully to see his cousin standing there, smiling a little at him. Ron…hadn’t expected to see him here. He hadn’t expected to see anyone here. He came to this drug store on purpose in the hopes that he would never see anyone he knew. 

Not that anyone he knew would care, probably, that he was here buying condoms, it wasn’t like that wasn’t a thing that people were allowed to do. Just that he hadn’t actually ever told anyone that he was in a position where he needed them. 

And now that he was thinking about that, he realized that Owen was standing here in the aisle of the drug store, right in front of the condoms, and Ron had a box in his hand. Face heating up, he hid them behind his back. “What are you doing here?”

“The…same thing as you, looks like.” Owen raised an eyebrow at him. “You do know that I already saw them, right? Plus, you’re standing in front of the shelf. Which, excuse me, by the way.” 

“Oh, right.” Ron moved aside, and Owen reached past him, grabbed two boxes of condoms off the shelf, then looked up at the shelf. 

“Hey, they have the glow in the dark kind.” Owen grinned, while Ron tried not to look mortified. “So…you’re seeing someone. I hope.” 

“Uh. Yeah.” Ron probably should have told Owen, at least. Since he was all over Facebook with pictures of himself and his boyfriend Gavin, probably he was the least likely to have cared. “So are you.”

“Yeah—we should hang out or something. I’ll introduce you to Gavin.” 

Ron couldn’t help but smile at the way Owen’s face went all soft at the mention of his boyfriend. “He seems nice. From what I’ve seen on your Facebook and stuff.”

“Really?” Owen punched him in the arm with his free hand, before reaching up for the glow in the dark condoms. “Don’t know what you’ve been looking at—Gavin’s a bit of an asshole.”

“Well…yeah.” Ron had gotten that impression, but in a good way. “Thought you might punch me if I said that, though. Besides, so are you.”

“Fair.” Owen considered what was in his hand, then snatched another box off the shelf.

“Jesus, how many of those do you need?” Sheer astonishment at how much sex Owen seemed to be planning for made Ron forget to be embarrassed for a bit.

Owen shrugged. “This should be good for this week.” He was holding four boxes of condoms. “Assuming we remember to, you know, use them. Which we’re not the best at,” Owen admitted, a little sheepish. “Don’t tell Mr. McKintosh that all his lectures from Health class are going to waste.” 

“I’m totally going to tell him on you, Owen.” McKintosh had been old enough that Ron thought he might have been there before condoms were invented, but he’d been kind of terrifyingly progressive about sex and protection and Ron had had nightmares about bananas for a while after that section of the class. 

“Okay, but back to the subject at hand—you never told me that you were seeing someone.” Owen’s tone was suddenly accusatory, and Ron felt bad. “You’re the worst cousin. Oh, hold on.” His phone was suddenly playing the soundtrack from _Wonder Woman_ , and Owen pulled it out and put it to his ear. “Hey. Yeah, I’m just in the drug store. Ran into my cousin. Do you want anything else?” A chuckle. “Yeah, I guessed that. They have the glow in the dark kind.” A grin split his face. “Yes, seriously. I’m getting them. Anything else? Last chance. Okay, love you. See you in a bit.” He hung up the phone, still smiling. “Gavin.”

“I’d hope you weren’t telling someone else about your condom choice,” Ron muttered. Though Owen had already told Ron about his sexual hygiene, so he probably couldn’t trust that hope too far. 

“The number of times mom or dad has mistakenly opened a shopping bag and learned about my condom choices…” Owen had the grace to look a little embarrassed, at least. “How’s your dad doing?”

Ron shrugged, glancing down as his phone buzzed with a text. “The same.”

“You okay?”

“Fine. I spend a lot of time…” He took a breath. “I spend a lot of time at James’s place.”

As Ron had kind of expected, Owen didn’t seem phased by the admission. “Nice. Just look at your phone—I can tell you want to.”

It had buzzed a few more times, and Ron pulled it out of his pocket, smiling a little. He wondered if his face looked like Owen’s had when he’d been talking about Gavin. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” Owen went back to perusing the shelf while Ron looked at his messages. 

_Are you on your way?_

_Grandma just left._

_Tana is bugging me on Facebook and I’m mad at you for making me get it._

_I tried to stop being her friend but Julia guilted me into not doing it._

Ron chuckled, typed a message back. _I’m on the way. Just in the store now._

_If you unfriend Tana, she’s going to come over and bug you in person._

A second later, _I guess so._ Ron could practically hear him sighing via text. _I’m hungry._

_I’ll make you supper when I get there,_ Ron texted back.

_Get me some chocolate bars. I’ll pay you back._

_You don’t have to pay me back._

_Yes, I do. I’m taking off my pants now. Come over._

_On my way._

Ron put his phone away, to find Owen watching him with an amused look on his face. “What?”

“Clearly he makes you happy.”

Ron looked away. “Yeah. He does.” 

“Good. Come on, I’m sure you don’t want to keep him waiting.” 

Ron nodded, and the two of them headed for the cash. Owen had another box of condoms and two bottles of lube in his hands now. “Jesus, Owen.” Ron had thought he would be embarrassed if anyone he knew saw him buying sex supplies, but what he really was here was embarrassed because suddenly he knew that apparently his cousin never did anything _but_ have sex. 

“One of them is for you,” Owen told him, nudging him in the shoulder. “Hey, you know what?”

“What?”

“We’re both the gay cousin.”

Ron laughed at that, and realized suddenly how much he’d missed spending time with Owen. “Let me know when you and Gavin are free. We’ll do something.”

“Cool. Invite James too.” 

Ron nodded, though he was pretty sure James would say no. “He probably won’t come. He’s not much for leaving his house, and stuff.”

“Okay.” Owen smiled in that easy way he’d always had with everything, heading for the cash. Only two were open, and one of them was occupied with a guy Ron vaguely recognized from school, who seemed really irritated and was arguing with the cashier. Owen headed for the empty cash and Ron followed him. “I’d like to meet him someday, though. But when he’s ready.”

“I’ll let him know.” 

Owen nodded, and dumped all of his stuff on the counter. The cashier didn’t bat an eye. “Evening, Owen.”

“Hi, Carter.” 

Carter rang all of Owen’s stuff through, bagging it in two bags. Owen pulled out his beaten-up debit card, shaking his head at the total on the machine. “Boyfriends are expensive,” he grumbled. 

“You could always…have less sex,” Ron suggested, grabbing six of James’s favourite chocolate bars from the shelf. 

Owen gave him a scandalized look as his receipt printed. “Are you insane?”

Ron held up his hands. “Forget I said anything.”

“I will. Never talk like that to me again, you hear? Thanks,” Owen said to the cashier, taking his bags and stepping aside to wait for Ron.

As usual, Ron didn’t really make eye contact with the cashier as he completed the purchase. “Have a good night.”

“Thanks, you too.” Ron said. It had been a little easier, buying them with Owen standing there. Maybe because Ron’s one box made him look like a normal person in comparison. The guy at the other cash was buying condoms too, he saw now that they were here. A bunch of them. And Ron had thought that he had a high libido. 

Still, Ron maintained that there needed to be an anonymous condom delivery service or something. So that he didn’t have to do this every week. 

Maybe he could just get Owen to buy them all for him. He probably wouldn’t even notice. 

“Where’s your car?” Owen asked as they stepped outside. “I don’t see it.”

“I took the bus. Not going to waste gas driving all the way up here.” And maybe a little worried that someone would see, and recognize, his beat up Civic. 

“Right.” Owen frowned. “Why’d you come up here, then? James don’t live nearby?”

“No.” Ron chuckled, suddenly nervous again. “I’d hoped to avoid anyone I knew who might wonder what I needed condoms for.”

Owen laughed at him, gave him a little shove. “I think most people wouldn’t need to wonder what you needed them for, Ronnie.” 

“You don’t find it weird?” Ron asked, looking at him. “Just talking about it like that?”

Owen gave a shrug, fishing in his pocket for keys. “Nah. I mean, you and I have never been weird with each other. Why should we start now?”

Owen wasn’t wrong about that, Ron supposed. “I guess. Thanks.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re still the weird cousin.”

“Better than the asshole cousin.”

Owen gave him the finger. “Do you want a ride? Cheaper than the bus, and probably faster.”

Ron shook his head. “It’s out of your way.”

“No worries. Gavin will wait a while longer. Come on.” Owen waved for Ron follow him, to a very shiny and very expensive sports car.

“What the fuck?” This was very much not the dirty pickup that Owen drove normally, and it definitely didn’t belong to Ron’s aunt and uncle, either. 

“It’s Gavin’s.” Owen looked more embarrassed by that than anything else that had happened tonight. “I may have only agreed to do the condom run if I could take it.”

Ron saw that look in Owen’s eye as he opened the door and slid inside. “You offered him sexual favours to be allowed to drive this, didn’t you?”

“Obviously.” Owen took Ron’s bag and his own and leaned back to toss them in the back seat, taking an extra moment to make sure they didn’t spill their contents all over the place. “Wouldn’t you?”

Ron settled into the seat, put on his seatbelt. “Yeah,” he admitted. It was pretty sweet. 

“Where to?” Owen asked, pulling out into the street. 

Ron directed Owen to James’s, and tried to enjoy the ride there. He pulled out his phone, sent a quick text to warn James that he’d been there in a few minutes, got an ‘okay’ in reply. 

When they pulled up, Owen reached back and got Ron’s bag, patting him on the shoulder. “Go get him, tiger.”

“Oh, shut up.” Ron rolled his eyes, ducking his head a little as he undid his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Yeah. Ron?”

Ron paused, door half open. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re happy.”

Ron smiled, nodding. “Thanks. You too, Cheeto.”

“Night.”

“Goodnight.” Ron got out of the car, closed the door with a wave. Owen waited until he’d gone inside James’s house before pulling away, giving the horn one honk as he did.

“Who was that?” James was sitting on the sofa inside, wearing one of Ron’s shirts, which was big on him but not so big as to hide the fact that he wasn’t wearing anything else. 

Ron took a second to take in that sight before answering, slipping out of his shoes as he remembered how to talk. “My cousin Owen. Ran into him in the store. He gave me a ride.”

“Okay. Did you bring me chocolate bars?”

“Yeah, I did.” Ron came into the house, offered the bag to James as he hung up his coat and undid his belt to take off the rest of his clothes, as usual when they were alone. 

“What’s this?”

“Isn’t that the kind you like?” Ron asked, looking over his shoulder as he stepped out of his jeans. “I thought…”

“Not the chocolate.” James was holding a box of condoms, inspecting it. “Glow in the dark?”

“What?” Ron took a look, and sure enough, that’s what they were. “Owen,” he growled. 

“Your cousin?”

“He was getting them for himself. Probably thought it would be funny,” Ron huffed, snatched his phone from his coat pocket and sent a quick text to Owen. _Asshole. Cousin._

Immediately he got a smiley face and an eggplant in response. 

_Don’t text and drive. That isn’t your car._

Ron put his phone away, turned with his hands on the hem of his shirt. “Sorry about that. Owen’s nice, but he’s kind of…”

James had opened the box and taken out one of the condoms. He was inspecting it carefully. He looked up at Ron, smiled a little, and there was an obvious tent in the shirt he was wearing that came just close of showing Ron something he really wanted to see. “Finish taking off your clothes and get on your knees over there. I’m going to turn off the lights.”


	10. Game Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know anything about sports, but sports are Owen's second favourite thing, so I wrote about them. Sort of.

“So we’re finally going to get to meet this boy who led you astray, are we?”

Owen looked up at his uncle Otto, who was wiggling his eyebrows. He gave his best innocent grin—the one he’d used when asking Otto for money as a kid. “All he did was stand there at the bottom of the cliff. I’m the one who took the running leap.” 

Otto laughed, taking the bowl of chips Owen offered him. “You’re just like your father. One look was all it took for him and your mom, and nothing was going to change his mind.” 

“Well, I’m a bit biased, but I’m glad that nothing could.” Owen shrugged. 

“Should we go easy on your boy?”

Owen snorted, grabbing the last bag of chips and filling another bowl. “Only if you want to be hung out to dry. Don’t ask him anything you don’t want to hear the answer to.” 

Otto chuckled as he and Owen took the last of the snacks into the living room, where everyone else was already sitting. “You learned that one from experience, I take it?”

“Pretty quickly.” 

“You hear that, Oscar? Your son’s nice and trainable.” 

Owen’s dad looked up form the couch, where he’d been talking to Otto’s wife Priscilla. “He’d better be, that’s how I raised him.” Dad and his brother were twins, both scruffy and strong looking, though Otto was the heavier of the two these days. Priscilla was one of those ladies who looked happier and happier as she got older. On the floor in front of them was Otto and Priscilla’s youngest boy Pierre, who took more after his mom’s darker colouring and having just turned nine, had decreed himself old enough to watch football instead of going to a movie with his sister and brother and Owen’s mom. 

The only sport mom watched was MMA fighting—she said all the other sports were too wimpy. 

“Where the hell’s Wil and Liv?” Otto demanded, taking the armchair and leaving the little loveseat to Owen. They made a sight, all dressed in red team jerseys. 

“They’re going to be late, they said they should make it in about a half hour,” Dad told Otto. “They’ve got Louie with them too.”

“What about Tommy?”

Dad shrugged. “He said he was busy. Probably won’t have time to come by. Owen, you hear from your cousin?”

“I’m right here!” Pierre announced. 

“Yeah, yeah, we know where you are.” Owen took out his phone, noted a text from Gavin saying they were almost here. “He already had plans too, but he might try to come around later.” 

“Plans?” Priscilla asked, raising her eyebrows at Owen, who shrugged. “Plans with someone, sounds like.”

“Maybe.” Owen wasn’t about to out Ron. He’d outed himself by accident to enough people that he was learning how to be at least a little careful about it by now. 

“So it’s just us five for now?”

“Gavin will be here in a minute. His sister is coming too.” 

Apparently Gabrielle’s fiancé was not into sports. Which Owen thought was a huge flaw that she should have been warned about before the betrothal, but maybe that wasn’t something that had factored into the decision. For some reason. It really should have been on top of the questionnaire, as far as he was concerned. 

On cue, the door opening in the hallway could be heard. Owen looked up. 

“Your young man is here, son.”

“Be right back.” Owen got up, stepping around everyone, made his way into the hall. Gavin and Gabrielle had come right in and were taking off their boots. “Hey.”

“Hey, you.” Gavin leaned in and gave Owen a kiss, before stripping his gloves and hat off. “It’s fucking cold.”

“We have salsa.”

“Good. I brought snacks, here,” Gavin thrust a bag into Owen’s hands, went about unbuttoning his coat. 

“Hey,” Owen waved at Gabrielle. She had a case of beer, which should do a lot to help her win over the crowd. 

“Hey. I’m not kissing you.”

“That’s okay with me.” There had been a time a long time ago when Owen would have liked Gabrielle to kiss him, but that time was gone and it was never coming back. “Is it still snowing?”

“Yes, Jesus,” Gavin said, shrugging his coat off and grabbing a hangar, revealing that he too was wearing team colours underneath. 

Green ones. 

“Woah, woah. What the fuck is this?” Owen demanded, looking at Gavin’s jersey, which matched his sister’s. 

“Supporting the team.”

“That’s n-not the team,” Owen said, gesturing to his own shirt. 

“It’s my team.” The glint in Gavin’s eye suggested that he’d known this for a while and hadn’t said anything on purpose, the little asshole. 

“I’m breaking up with you,” Owen declared. “I think this is a breaking-up-worthy offence and my family is going to back me up on this.” Owen had never felt so betrayed.

Here he’d thought Gavin could do no wrong. Today was a day for rude awakenings, it seemed. 

“Your family loves me.”

“Not anymore. Get out of my house, you heretic.”

“Oh, stop being such a wuss. You’re just upset that someone here is going to be backing the winning team.” Gabrielle hung up her own coat and hefted the case of beer again. “Are you going to let us in or not?”

“I’m honestly considering not,” Owen told her, but he turned, knowing he looked a little stricken, and went back into the living room. “Change of plans. Gavin and Gabrielle can’t come. They died.” 

“What’s this about, Owen?” Dad asked, just as Gavin walked into the room behind him, then his eyes narrowed. “Oh.”

“Or at least they’re dead to me.”

“Hi, Mr. Trapp. Thanks for having us over.”

“Owen,” his dad said quietly, “this should have been the first thing on the questionnaire.”

“Sorry.” Owen had no excuse to give. He was seduced by the siren song of a shirtless Gavin, and he hadn’t thought to ask the important questions first. 

“Thanks very much for inviting us,” Gabrielle echoed, holding up her offering. “I didn’t want to come empty handed. Where do you want this?”

Dad looked at Gabrielle, then at the beer. “She can stay.”

“I have chips,” Gavin said, still smiling. 

“We have lots of chips,” Owen told him, still giving him the side-eye. He hadn’t expected Gavin to have such bad taste in football teams. He felt like his whole world had been upended. He needed to find out what hockey team his boyfriend liked before this got any worse. 

“I’ll allow you to stay and watch your team get stomped out of consideration for my son’s feelings,” dad told Gavin, “but you’re filling out the questionnaire afterwards, young man.”

“Sorry?” Gavin asked sweetly. “How will you read the answers between your tears over your loss?”

“Fighting words.” 

“Some of us call them facts, sir.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Oscar, Gavin? You’re sleeping with my son, for God’s sake. Sit down.”

With one last cheeky smile at Owen, Gavin tugged on his arm to go sit on the loveseat while Gabrielle opened the box of beer. 

When they were seated and drinks had been passed around in a very ‘don’t tell your mother’ sort of way even though mom wasn’t stupid and it wasn’t the first time Owen had had a beer with the game, Gavin snuggled up to Owen. 

Gabrielle punched him from the other side of the loveseat. “No snuggling.”

“But I’m cold.”

“No cuddling with the enemy, Owen,” dad told him, pointing. 

“Someone has to comfort him. Gavin’s a sore loser.” Owen put his arm around Gavin for good measure. 

“I don’t lose.”

“You must have just started watching that train wreck of a team, then.”

Gavin pinched Owen on the arm hard enough that Owen pulled away a bit. Otto laughed. 

The game started a few minutes later, and Gavin tilted his head up and murmured at Owen, quiet enough not to be heard, “Winner tops.”

Owen glanced down at him, shifting a little and willing himself to remember that Gavin was the enemy here. “Loser keeps his jersey on.”

“Stop it,” Gabrielle told them.

“Stop what?” Gavin asked, eyes wide. There was no way she’d heard.

Gabrielle sighed, shook her head. “They’re impossible,” she said to Priscilla, tone apologetic. 

“Tell me about it,” dad grumbled from her other side, while Priscilla chuckled.

“They’re just like you and Tina,” Otto told Owen’s dad. “You two were obnoxious at their age too.”

Poor Pierre was looking around at all of them with mild dismay. “Does being weird run in the family?”

“Yes,” Owen told him, passing the bowl of pretzels down to him. “Sorry.”

“What is the defence doing?” Priscilla demanded, bringing their attention back to the screen. 

“What they usually do,” Gavin said, smugly. 

“They’re just getting warmed up,” dad said. 

“They ought to stop screwing around,” Otto muttered with a glare. 

“They know these guys aren’t worth the effort.” Owen tightened his grip on Gavin a little. 

Gavin nestled a bit, settling in to watch. Before he did, though, he leaned up to Owen one more time and said, “Deal.”


	11. Background Reading

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In light of certain events in the main timeline, I feel that this happy chapter is in order.

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

“What?”

“You made a noise.”

“I was reading the book.”

“You saw something that interested you.”

James paused, shifting in Ron’s lap. He nodded. “Would you wear a collar?”

Ron thought about that for a moment, looking away from his own book. “I guess,” he said after a second, having tried to picture it. “Not all the time. But maybe when we were just here by ourselves, if you wanted.”

“You don’t sound enthusiastic,” James said, leaning his head against Ron’s shoulder. 

Ron shrugged. “I’m not super into the idea. I don’t hate it.”

“Okay.” James reached over to the coffee table, grabbed the little notebook he had and wrote something down in it. “I’m not sure how into it I am either. It looks kind of neat, but we’ll see.”

“Maybe we could try it for a night or something and see how it goes?”

“Maybe.” James smiled, put his notebook away and lifted his book again. “I don’t suppose you want to role-play a dog.”

Ron shook his head. “No.” Not that he hated the idea or anything, he could just tell it wasn’t going to do anything for him.

“I didn’t think so. I guess some people are into it. I feel like you’d just start laughing.”

Ron did too. He nodded and went back to his own book, which was detailing different kinds of knots. 

He hadn’t realized that being in a Dom/sub relationship would mean so much homework, but having done a lot of it, he saw why. There was a lot of shit he hadn’t known about at all. Ron had also not realized the extent to which he was into this as a concept, but more reading was making it pretty apparent that yes, he was definitely pretty into this as a concept. “Hey,” he said. 

“What is it?”

Now that he’d initiated the conversation, Ron wasn’t sure he wanted to commit to it, but James was looking at him, so he soldiered on. “Do you think if we hadn’t met, that you’d have still wanted this kind of relationship with someone? Like, someone else, I mean.”

James made a bit of a face, and didn’t answer for a minute. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “Maybe. A lot of it feels very natural to me. So maybe I would have. I can’t imagine wanting to do it with anyone but you, though.” 

Ron smiled, and he kissed James on the cheek. “Me either.” 

“Would you?” James asked. “If you hadn’t met me?”

Ron nodded. “The more I read about this the more I realize how well it fits me, if that makes sense? I got into it because of you, but I think I’d have come to it eventually.” 

James nodded too, stroking Ron’s hair absently. “I’m glad, then. That we met each other. So we could help each other.”

“Me too. I don’t want to be with anyone but you either,” Ron added. “Just to be clear.”

“Good. Saves me having to put that collar on you,” James teased, and Ron laughed. 

Ron hadn’t heard the door opening or closing, but he did hear the clink of keys just in time to realize that they weren’t alone in the house anymore. James looked up at the sound and there wasn’t any time for them to move apart before his grandmother came into the living room, holding her cane in one hand as she fixed her hair. “Bloody wind out there, I swear…” Josephine caught sight of them, raised an eyebrow. “Afternoon, boys.”

Flushed to the roots of his hair, Ron smiled at her. “Good afternoon, ma’am.” 

At least he had clothes on. Even if James was sitting on him. And even if he was holding a book called _Bondage and Discipline_ with a big picture of some handcuffs on the cover. James’s didn’t have a fun picture, but it was called _BDSM and You_ and there was no way Josephine couldn’t see it. 

“Hi, grandma. How was the lunch?”

That eyebrow went further up as she saw the books. Ron wondered if this old armchair was at any risk of falling through the floor into another country or something. 

But it didn’t. “Fine, too much egg salad on the table. Some light reading for the two of you?”

James was red in the face too, but not quite as mortified as Ron. He nodded. 

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Josephine said with a sigh. “I’d rather you did the research that not. And neither of you better have based anything off that wretched novel.”

Both of them shook their heads in unison. “It was really boring,” James told her. “And wrong about everything.”

“Even I could tell you that,” Josephine nodded firmly. “Good.” Ron really hadn't needed to know that she'd read it, but okay.

“We’re setting rules,” James said, shifting again. Ron wished they could be having this conversation in any other position. “For safety.”

Another nod. “So long as you’re both safe and happy. And not making a mess of my living room,” she cautioned. 

“Don’t worry. We’ll go upstairs when we’re ready…”

“I’m sure,” Ron interrupted, putting his arms around James. “That she doesn’t want to know what’s at the end of that sentence, James?”

James stopped himself, blinking, then he looked at Ron, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“At least one of you has some sense,” Josephine sighed. “I’m going to put the laundry on.”

“We did that already,” James told her, before she could move. 

“You did?” Josephine didn’t sound like she believed James. “Or Ron did?”

James scowled a little, though Ron knew it was a perfectly fair question. “We both did.” 

Ron had been prepared to do it himself. James had felt bad for making him do it himself. Even though he hadn’t been making Ron do anything. 

Josephine made a little noise, looking at Ron. “You—keep being a good influence and you can wear as much leather as you want.” 

Ron nodded, though he kind of still wanted to die. “I’ll try.”

“Good. I’ll go decide what to do for supper.”

“I’m making soup,” Ron told her. “It’s simmering on the stove already.”

That earned him a narrowing of Josephine’s eyes. “My, oh my. James, where did you find him?”

“The garden.”

A snort. “Well, if I’m to be obsolete, I suppose I’ll go do the crossword and leave everything to the two of you, then.” Josephine smiled. 

Ron smiled at her, nodded. “We’ve got it under control, ma’am.”

“Have fun, boys,” she said, before heading off into the other room. 

Ron sighed, felt James relax in his lap. “That could have been worse.”

“Yes. I’m glad she understood. Sorry,” James added, looking at Ron again. “I should have been checking the time so we could go upstairs.” 

“It’s okay,” Ron told him, hugging James before he picked up his book again. “It worked out for the best. But let’s maybe not let anyone else see us reading books on how to best tie me up?”

“I think I can arrange that,” James chuckled. “I was thinking.”

“Yeah?”

“About the collar again.” James paused, and Ron watched him and waited for him to start again. “I would like you to wear something of mine.” 

“Something…” Ron swallowed a little.

“Not something obtrusive or…obvious. I don’t mean it to advertise to everyone.” James looked at Ron, smiled. “Just…I want you to have something of mine with you, when I’m not. A little necklace or something to remind you.” 

Ron bit his lip, feeling himself get warmer as James explained. When he was done, Ron nodded. “I’d like that,” he said quietly. 

“Good,” James said, stroking Ron’s hair again. “I’ll find you something, then.” He put his head back against Ron’s shoulder, lifted up his book to keep reading. “You should check the soup soon.”

“Yeah, I will.” Ron picked up his own book, went back to the knots. “We can sit for a while longer.”

“Okay.” 

Occasionally broken so they could discuss something they were reading, the warm silence stayed with them the rest of the afternoon. Ron had never felt so comfortable.


	12. First Impression

“I feel like we shouldn’t have kept going.”

Owen grinned, took Gavin’s hand in his. “You didn’t enjoy it?”

“I did, but there’s no way it took us this long to come down for any other reason. Your parents are totally going to know we were up there having sex.” Gavin sounded uncharacteristically worried. 

Owen kind of wanted to flee the country and never look back, so he knew where Gavin was coming from. But Gavin being visibly nervous made him want to project confidence—Gavin was always confident when Owen was worried. “I think that ship might have sailed when dad walked in on us having sex, dearest.” 

“No, I mean…” Gavin let out a loud sigh, buried his face in Owen’s shoulder for a minute. “You’re the worst.”

“I try.” Owen hugged him. “It’s fine. My parents will like you.”

“Of course they’ll _like_ me. Everyone likes me. They would like me faster if their introduction to me had been me coming to pick you up for something wearing a nice suit and shaking their hands. Not coming in you on your hands and knees.” Gavin shook his head. 

Owen had to admit, that was more how he’d hoped to introduce Gavin to mom and dad too, but he smiled. “It’ll be fine. If they were going to kick you out they would have done it when you weren’t wearing anything but a condom.”

“That’s reassuring.” Gavin rolled his eyes, took a deep breath. And he nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Owen took his hand, led Gavin down the narrow stairs and into the kitchen. Owen’s parents were sitting there at the table, talking quietly to each other. They looked up when Owen and Gavin came into the kitchen.

“Hi, mom. Dad.” Now that they were down here, Owen was a lot more nervous than he had been. Both of them were looking at him expectantly, which had never heralded anything good in Owen’s past. He squeezed Gavin’s hand. “Um, this is Gavin. My boyfriend. And also I’m bisexual, which I had been meaning to tell you, and stuff.”

Not the most eloquent thing Owen had ever said, but there it was. 

There was silence for what felt like a few days but the clock on the wall only ticked two seconds before Owen’s mom stood up, took Gavin’s other hand with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Gavin. I’m Tina.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Trapp.” Gavin said, smiling politely at Owen’s mom.

“Oh, dear, Owen. You should have mentioned to us that he was hard of hearing,” Mom said, shaking her head. “I said ‘Tina,” Gavin.” 

Gavin laughed. “I’ll try to remember that.”

Dad was standing now too, and he was looking at Gavin sort of without making eye contact. “I don’t know about you, son, but I’d say it’s best for all our peace of mind if we just pretend this is the first time we’ve met, no?”

Gavin nodded vigorously, took the hand dad offered him. “Yes, sir, I do. Nice to meet you, I’m Gavin ven Sancte.”

“Oscar Trapp,” Dad said, shaking with Gavin and gesturing to the table. “Do you want a drink? We have coffee.”

“That would be great.” 

“See?” Owen whispered in Gavin’s ear as they went to the table. “Told you it’d be fine.”

“It might all be a trap so they can poison me,” Gavin muttered, but he sat at the table and took the cup that dad offered him. “Thank you, sir.”

Owen had to pour his own coffee—he saw how it was—and he sat down as well, adding some milk to it until it didn’t taste like coffee anymore. “Gavin’s on the soccer team with me,” he said, since he knew that was what his parents were going to ask. “He plays goalkeeper.”

“Well, I can already tell you’re quite a convincing young man,” Mom said to Gavin, over a cup of coffee. “You managed to get my son away from football.” 

“It wasn’t quite like that,” Gavin protested. 

“It was kind of like that,” Owen muttered. Because Gavin deserved it. 

It was totally worth the look he got. There were cookies on the table so Owen took one. 

“Ven Sancte,” Dad said suddenly, looking at Gavin. “You’re Gerard ven Sancte’s son, aren’t you, Gavin?”

Owen winced. He’d hoped that this part wouldn’t come up. Just, ever. Somehow. 

Gavin nodded, completely unaware of the pit he was about to jump into. He gave Owen a funny look when Owen kicked him under the table. “Yes, sir.” 

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Dad said with a sigh. “Still, it can’t be helped.”

“Oscar.”

“You’re not a fan?” Gavin asked, sipping.

“Do we have to talk about this?” Owen asked. Pleaded. 

“I wouldn’t vote for Gerard ven Sancte if his opponent was a rabid raccoon. He’s mismanaged the budget from day one.” 

Owen sighed. 

Gavin looked at dad for a moment, then he laughed. “I was worried that you were only pretending to be nice to me and were going to tell Owen you secretly hate me after I left, you know. But I guess if you didn’t like me, I’d know.”

“You would know and you’d be out on the lawn, young man,” Dad promised.

“Dad.”

“My father has created thousands of jobs in the community since becoming mayor, sir.”

“Gavin.” This was not a fruitful line of discussion. 

“By spending money hand over fist on useless development projects that are dotting the skyline with concrete monuments to ego.”

Owen just took another cookie and sighed again. Dad was getting poetic. This was going to take a while. 

“His opponent in the last election would have let the city’s infrastructure fall apart underneath us all to save nickels,” Gavin pointed out.

“So instead your father sinks money into big business and chokes out small competitors, like a good oligarch.”

“ _Mom_ ,” Owen said. Sometimes he tricked himself into thinking that she was the reasonable one. 

Not that either of them was likely to scare his boyfriend away or anything. It was clear from the glint in Gavin’s eye that he was having fun. “My dad can’t help it if the people with money are the ones who can help build things. Capitalism sucks but it’s the way the world works at the moment.” 

“They should have carved that into the front of the Gladstone Building,” Dad suggested. 

“That wasn’t as bad as people make it out to be.”

“The Gladstone Project was a disaster,” Owen couldn’t help but say, already hating himself for it. “And that building is a piece of shit.”

“Owen.” Gavin sounded scandalized. “Be on my side.”

“Be right and I will.”

Gavin looked offended. Mom and dad looked proud. 

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of it, and they ended up talking about politics for hours. Gavin did not succeed in convincing any of them, but he also didn’t give any ground. They talked so long he had to stay for supper. Owen was pretty sure his parents just didn’t want Gavin to leave.


	13. Emotional Support

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised someone that the next Modern AU chapters would show us the less than healthy couples, so here's the first of them.

Edwin didn’t look up when he heard the door click open and swing shut, just putting another chip in his mouth as Simba and Scar fought over Pride Rock. 

There was some shuffling, the sound of shoes being taken off, footsteps. “Hey,” Erik said, pausing in the doorway. 

Edwin glanced up at him, smiling briefly. “Hey. How was class?”

“Not bad, I did better on my psych midterm than I thought. How was school?” Erik asked, coming over and dropping onto the other side of the sofa. 

“Fine,” Edwin said, eyes going back to the end of the movie. “The usual.”

“Really?” Erik asked, in that way that Erik asked things when he knew the answer. “You were supposed to get your history paper back today, yeah?”

“Sykes didn’t finish grading them so we’re not getting them back until Friday.”

“Hm.” Erik glanced at the TV. “You came here instead of going home, you’re wearing one of my shirts and watching the _Lion King_.” 

“You’re very observant, you know that?” Edwin asked, rolling his eyes. Erik’s shirts were more comfortable than his. “You’ll make a super good cop.”

“You’re in a bad mood, and since the text I got from mom to tell me you didn’t come home didn’t mention a fight, I’m guessing if I look in your bag, I’ll find a history paper in it.” 

Edwin sighed. “Why are you such an asshole?”

“Beats being petulant. You want to talk about it?”

“No,” Edwin huffed. “If I wanted to talk about it, I’d go home. I want to sit here and watch this movie.”

“You’ve seen this movie a thousand times.” 

Whatever, it was his favourite movie. “You’ve seen _Die Hard_ a thousand times, that doesn’t stop you from liking it.” Edwin shouldn’t be taking his frustration out on Erik. Erik was the only person who really understood him. But he was making it so easy at the moment. 

Erik fell silent and let Edwin watch the rest of the film. Once it was done, he scooted over and pulled Edwin into a cuddle, one arm around his middle. “You know when you wear my clothes it makes me want to do indecent things to you.”

“Maybe that was the idea,” Edwin muttered. It hadn’t really been, but he wasn’t opposed to it. “All my clothes were your clothes at some point anyway.” 

“Correlates with the fact that I want to do indecent things to you all the time,” Erik mused. “Maybe you just shouldn’t wear clothes ever.”

“You think that would fix the problem?” Edwin asked, teasing a little. “I feel like it would make it worse.”

“Yeah, but it’d make it easier for me to do those things.”

“I’m down for that. You going to take this off of me?” Erik did have a bit of a thing for Edwin using his things without permission. 

“In a bit, once you tell me why you’re so upset.” 

“Erik.” Edwin rolled his eyes. Erik was very adept at killing the mood. 

“Edwin,” Erik mocked, though Edwin didn’t sound that whiny. 

They were quiet for a long minute while Edwin leaned on Erik, feeling stupid. “I got a B.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a B.”

“I know that,” Edwin grumbled. He was a straight B student. “I don’t care about the grade. When he gave me the paper back, Sykes made sure to tell me that you got an A in his class.” 

Did people really not realize that Edwin was completely aware of how much he was in Erik’s shadow? Did they really think he didn’t know that he didn’t measure up? 

“Ah,” Erik pulled Edwin closer. “For the record, I got an A-.” 

“Whatever,” Edwin grumbled. Erik smelled really nice. “I just…don’t need to be reminded all the time that you’re better than me, like I don’t already know.” 

“I’m not.” 

“The grades say otherwise.”

“Grades are bullshit,” Erik told Edwin firmly. “They don’t measure anything but your ability to do things the way your teacher asks. And don’t listen to Mr. Sykes, he’s an asshole.”

Edwin knew that. He knew all of that. He also didn’t want to hear any of it. “Do you love me?”

Erik pulled Edwin into his lap, kissed him on the forehead. “Yes. I love you more than anything, Ed. You know that.”

“I know.” Edwin did know that. That was what he’d wanted to hear. He buried his face in Erik’s shoulder. “I love you too,” he said softly. “So much.”

“Yeah.” Erik held him, and they sat like that on the sofa for a long while. 

Sitting like that with Erik never failed to make Edwin feel less useless, like less of a failure. Erik never failed to make Edwin feel that way. After a while Erik sighed, looked down at him. “You going to stay the night?”

Edwin shrugged. He wanted to. “Do you want me to go?”

“Obviously not. But you’re going to call mom and tell her so she doesn’t worry.”

“Yeah, okay. Sorry.” Edwin fished around in the couch cushions for his phone. “I should have told her I was coming here so she didn’t bother you.”

“Or you could have told me.”

“That too,” Edwin said with a nod as he found his phone, went into his contacts. “Wish I could just live here with you.”

“Couple more years.”

“Too long.” As much as he appreciated that they had a space away from their parents where they could be themselves, Edwin also wished that Erik hadn’t moved out. 

“You’re such a baby.”

“Makes you want to spoil me, doesn’t it?” Edwin asked, flashing Erik a smile.

Erik smirked. “Makes me want to spank you.”

Oh, so it was going to be like that. “Well, I’m on the phone, and that’d be hard to explain, yeah?”

“I’ll come up with something else, I’m sure.” Erik played with the bottom of Edwin’s stolen shirt, watching him. “You going to dial?”

Edwin chuckled, and pressed the call button. Erik never failed to make Edwin feel special, and Edwin was sure today would be no exception.


	14. Dark Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here are Sam and Henry, with all associated warnings intact.

“How long are you going to keep me in here?”

“As long as I want,” Sam answered, zipping up his pants. 

“You can’t just…someone’s going to come looking for me.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You’re not invincible. You and your father can’t get away with what you’re doing forever, you know. You’re young enough that you’d probably not be blamed for anything if you helped, you’re a victim too, you should…”

Sam took his switchblade out of his pocket, let the distinctive click override Henry’s whinging. Henry stopped talking with a nice snap of his jaw. “If your plan is to get me to release you, blow the whistle on my father and we both live happily ever after, then I have bad news for you.”

Henry let out one of those sighs that made Sam want to slash his throat. “Should have known. You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?” 

“My father?” Sam snorted, though that question sent a spike of rage through him. He clicked the blade again. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“Yeah,” Henry said, sighing again. Sam heard the bed creak as he sat up. “I would be.”

Counting the steps, Sam approached the bed, sat down beside Henry. He started gently running the knife up Henry’s bare leg. “Don’t worry. He’s not going to jail, he’s going to hell. And when he does, then we’ll live happily ever after.” He stopped just above the knee, poking the knife to draw blood. “You’ll get to see more than this room.”

“I don’t see this room now,” Henry hissed. “If you like me so much, turn the damn lights on.”

Sam laughed. “I remember you telling me you weren’t afraid of the dark, Henry.” 

“I’m not. It’s just annoying.”

“Hm.” Sam wondered. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Just like that.” Henry didn’t sound convinced. 

“It doesn’t cost either of us anything for me to think about it,” Sam told him with a smile. He put the switchblade away. “It’s what it’ll cost you to get it that’s going to be fun.”

“I don’t need the light so badly that I’m going to do something fucked up for it.” They way Henry said that, it really sounded like he had the courage to carry that conviction through. He probably even had himself convinced.

“A few more weeks of the dark and you might change your mind.” Sam was smiling now, getting ideas. “You know, we’re going to be really good friends, Henry.”

“No, we’re not, you psycho.”

“See, that’s what I mean. Everyone else I’ve locked up in here lost the will to call me names after the first few days. You still have the energy to snark at me no matter what I do to you. Makes me think I’m not playing hard enough.” 

“I’m not playing at all,” Henry grumbled. 

Sam laughed at him. “Not well, anyway. Next time I come by I’m going to ask you a question. There’s a guy who tried to get away from my dad. Dad’s going to let me have him when we find him. He’s got a wife and a kid. You get to decide which one I kill first.”

“What? Fuck you, I’m not…”

“You can abdicate the responsibility if you want,” Sam continued, standing up again. “But if you do I’ll keep the kid alive and put him in a room just like this one, and play with him just like I play with you.”

There was a resounding silence at that. Sam stretched, headed for the door. “Think about it before I come back. I don’t want to sit around for hours dealing with your morality crisis. He’s eight years old, by the way.”

“You son of a bitch,” Henry whispered.

“For all I know, my mom was perfectly nice,” Sam told him, opening the door and stepping outside. He locked it behind him, leaning against for a good few minutes. 

He let out a long breath as he leaned there in the quiet hallway. He liked Henry. He always had so much fun with him in there. But it was hard, stressful. Henry was unpredictable. He wasn’t broken. He would be, someday. Everyone broke. But for now, dealing with him was like kicking a half-tame dog. He didn’t know when he was going to get bit in response.

That was part of what Sam liked about Henry. 

From inside the room, Sam could hear a soft singing, some off-key pop song. Frowning, he stayed and listened for a minute longer. He wondered if Henry always sang or if that was a new thing. Part of his coping mechanism or a sign of deterioration? He’d never stuck around long enough to know. 

Sam stood there listening for several more minutes. Purely because it might tell him something about Henry, of course. He was a terrible singer. It was oddly hard to listen to, but not because of that. He just felt like he shouldn’t be here.

This was Sam’s house. He could go wherever he wanted. But he felt like he shouldn’t be here, listening to this, and that made him feel strange. Not angry. But strange. 

Sam left Henry to his singing, heading for his own room. He had plans to make. 

The song was stuck in his head now.


	15. Movie Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was just going to be cute, but now there are handjobs in it as well as cuteness, so enjoy those, I guess.

“You’re totally faking it,” Marcus accused, glaring at Daniel. “You’re scared.”

Daniel smiled at him. “Not really. They’re just movies.” It was just actors running around a set pretending to be scared of special effects.

“You’re full of shit.” 

Marcus, now Marcus was scared. He was one of those boys who hid being scared by getting aggressive, and he was picking at Daniel because Daniel being scared would mean that Marcus wouldn’t be, through some strange logic. 

A boy Daniel might be, but even he didn't understand boy logic sometimes.

So Daniel nodded. “Yeah, I guess a bit. The part where the monster jumped out of the tree was scary.” That was the part that Marcus had jumped at, before loudly commenting that he’d totally seen it coming.

Marcus made a ‘tch’ noise. “I guess if you’re a chicken,” he said, gently nudging Daniel. 

“Am I putting another one on?” Hugh asked quietly from the floor. He got quiet when he was scared. He was holding a copy of _The Evil Dead_ in one hand while he watched them. 

Daniel tried not to giggle. That was his favourite movie. “Sure.”

“I guess.”

Hugh nodded a bit grimly and put it in, and he made as if to sit on the floor where he had been. All the others had chickened out already, leaving just the three of them to tough out the rest of the horror movie marathon to celebrate Theodore being gone on a business trip.

Not that they were celebrating if Theodore were to hear about it. Just passing the time doing something fun. But they were all celebrating him not being in the house, Daniel most of all. It was a chance to eat junk food and wear loose-fitting clothes and swear without being chided. 

Of course, that didn’t mean Theodore didn’t know about it, since there was a camera in the corner of the room that none of the other boys had noticed, but it was nice to pretend. 

Wearing a loose t-shirt that belonged to Trevor, Daniel tugged at Hugh’s collar. “Come sit up here with us,” he said. 

Hugh complied with a sigh that was fake, because he had to pretend to be unaffected entirely when he was scared. They were so weird, both of them. But he came up and sat right beside Daniel. “Better?”

“Better,” Daniel confirmed. And he took Marcus’s hand in his. “So I don’t get scared,” he informed Marcus, who just scowled. Probably both of them could see through it, they were smart enough.

But in horror movies as in life, the story they were telling was more important than the truth. Hugh and Marcus could tell themselves a story that they weren’t scared and were just comforting poor Daniel who was, and even though all three of them knew that wasn’t true, it didn’t matter. What was true didn’t matter, because what people told themselves was what was real. 

“Fine,” Marcus grumbled, but he broke away for a second and took off his shirt, tossing it aside before taking Daniel’s hand back in his, a little tighter than before. “I don’t want to get all sweaty later because you’re being cuddly,” he muttered, eyes on the screen. 

Daniel just nodded, eyes flicking just for a second to the camera in the corner. When the movie started, he shifted a little, in such a way as to make his big shirt ride up a bit so that his briefs would be visible for the camera. Even though he knew that Theodore was watching them all the time, in their bedrooms and even in the bathroom, it bothered Daniel to think that Marcus was sitting there in his underwear, completely unaware that the three of them weren’t alone. But he also knew that if he gave Theodore something else to look at, it wouldn’t be as much like Marcus was on display. And Theodore, Daniel knew, would rather look at him at the moment. 

It was a little thing he could do to protect them, at least a little bit. 

“Why would he read from the evil looking book?” Hugh demanded, making a tsking noise at the film. “Idiots.”

“Yeah, super scary,” Marcus teased. “A book.”

Daniel kept quiet, nicely cuddled in between them. It was kind of warm like this and part of him wished he’d taken off his shirt too. 

The movie kept going. Hugh squeezed perceptibly closer to Daniel as it did. About halfway through, Marcus, whose grip on Daniel’s hand was starting to hurt, looked at Daniel just in time not to watch a beheading. “You guys are all sweaty,” he said, just a little out of breath. “What, you too scared to take your shirts off?”

“Not all of us are nudists like you, Marcus,” Hugh said, voice very even.

“Whatever, it’s not like it’s anything you haven’t seen already,” Marcus said, snapping the waistband of his briefs. 

Daniel and Hugh looked at each other and Hugh shrugged. They were both kind of sweaty, and so for just a second, they broke apart to cave to peer pressure and strip down, shirts tossed over the back of the sofa. Hugh unselfconsciously attached himself to Daniel again after, and Daniel put an arm around him as all three of them went back to watching the movie. He resisted the urge to look up at the camera again. Maybe Theodore would be too busy to watch the footage, or get bored sometime during the first two movies. It wasn’t like they were even doing anything. It wasn’t weird. It wouldn’t be weird if Theodore didn’t make it weird. 

Theodore was going to make it weird, and Daniel was resigned to that.

Marcus and Hugh managed to survive the movie, though Daniel heard Hugh whimper a few times near the end and at the very last scene, Marcus yelped out loud and buried his face in Daniel’s shoulder just before the credits rolled. Daniel patted him on the back. “It’s okay to look now.”

“Screw you,” Marcus muttered, pulling back a bit. “It wasn’t scary. I was just done watching.”

“Okay,” Daniel said. He smiled. “So you don’t want to watch any more, then? Maybe we should go to bed.”

“No!” Marcus clutched Daniel a little. “Not yet. I mean, it’s like the only time we don’t have a bedtime. Let’s do something else.”

“What?” Hugh asked.

“I don’t know, something. Daniel’s too scared to go to bed.”

It was all Daniel could do not to laugh. “Maybe you guys could sleep in my bed tonight? So I don’t get nightmares.”

“Y-yeah…” Hugh nodded. “I guess we could do that. For you.”

“You guys are such babies…” Marcus looked away, biting his lip. “But I guess it wouldn’t be fair to let you sleep alone. Fine.”

“Let’s…play cards or something for a while first, though,” Hugh suggested.

“Yeah…” Marcus nodded at that. “Okay.”

Daniel smiled. “Thanks, guys.”

“Don’t get all sappy. And we’re not playing a stupid kids’ game, I’ll teach you how to play poker.”

Daniel sighed. “This is something I’m going to be bad at, isn’t it?”

“I hope so.” 

Marcus stayed there beside him for another full minute before he managed to get up from the couch, scratching his side as he went to a cupboard and found a deck of cards, beckoning them all to sit on the floor at the little coffee table that was filled with bags of chips and empty cans of soda. “Come on.”

Hugh smiled and pulled Daniel down, and Daniel just sighed. He supposed it was only fair that he let them beat him at cards for a while before bed. Given that both of them were still hiding shakes, it might help them be less afraid. 

“We don’t have money and it’s no fun without bets,” Marcus muttered, as he shuffled the cards really fast, bouncing his foot. “Hugh, give us each some of those chips.”

As Hugh poured some potato chips onto the table and split them into three even piles, Marcus explained the rules at an uncharacteristically patient pace that still left Daniel a little confused. 

Sure enough, he lost the first few hands pretty resoundingly, until he only had a few chips left in front of him and the other two boys had much larger piles for it, with Marcus’s being the biggest. “You’re going to lose the shirt off your back at this rate,” Marcus teased, as he took in his latest winnings. 

“I’m not wearing a shirt.”

“Something else, then.” Marcus gave him a grin, and he passed Daniel the cards to deal the new hand. 

Daniel wondered if that was supposed to be a joke as he clumsily dealt out the cards. That he was getting better at, at least. 

Since he sucked, Daniel chose to bet more conservatively while he watched Hugh and Marcus play. Even so, soon he was out of chips, and he had what looked to him like pretty good cards. But when it came his turn to raise, he couldn’t. “Um…”

“Bet your shirt,” Marcus suggested, with that grin again.

“I’m not wearing it,” Daniel reminded him. He’d almost forgotten that none of them were dressed. 

“Yeah, and if you lose this hand, you can’t have it back.”

Daniel thought about his cards, considered it. He was pretty confident he could win. “Okay.”

“Fold,” Hugh muttered, putting his cards down. He looked suspiciously at Marcus. “He’s up to something, Daniel.”

“Shh,” Marcus said, putting another chip on the pile and looking at Daniel expectantly. “You going to see the bet?”

“I don’t have anything else.”

“Sure you do.”

Daniel had a feeling Marcus had planned this all along. And that kind of excited Daniel, actually, so he smiled. “Okay.” 

Marcus smirked and put his cards down, showing a flush. Daniel scowled. He had one too, but it wasn’t as high. “Crap.”

Marcus giggled—Daniel had never heard him giggle before—when he saw Daniel’s hand. “Pay up.”

“I told you he was up to something,” Hugh sighed. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Daniel.”

Daniel looked at Hugh, and looked at Marcus, who, though smiling, did nod at Hugh’s comment. “Obviously.”

“It’s fine.” Daniel shrugged. “I lost.” He stood, and, again resisting the urge to look at the camera, dropped his briefs, kicked them over at Marcus. A combination of sugar and hormones and adrenaline from the movie were telling Daniel that this was no problem at all. 

“Ew, I don’t want your dirty undies.”

“You asked for them, perv.” Daniel sat down, leaned on the table. “Give me one chance to win them back.”

Marcus cocked an eyebrow. “And what if you lose?”

Daniel matched his smirk from before, even more excited now. The table was hiding it, but he was getting kind of hard. “I don’t know. You decide.”

“You’re going to regret that, Daniel.”

“I have a feeling I won’t.” 

“Alright. New rules. Everyone bet their briefs. Winner gets them all, losers have to take them off, if Daniel wins, he just gets his back, and if he loses he has to do…something.”

Hugh looked suspiciously at Marcus as Marcus started to deal the cards. “Don’t act like you don’t know what you’re going to make him do. You had this planned from the start.”

Marcus put on an innocent face. “Not my fault Daniel’s bad at cards. I’m just giving him a chance to win back what he lost.”

“I’ll do it,” Daniel said, smiling. He had a feeling that if he were to check, he wouldn’t be the only one with a hard-on under the table. He wasn’t the only one running on sugar and hormones and adrenaline. 

“See, Daniel’s not a chicken.”

“Fine,” Hugh sighed, a little flushed in the face. Apparently he had to pretend not to care about this too. “Deal me in.”

Marcus already had, and the boys picked up their cards. Daniel’s were, to his surprise, actually really good this time. He might suck, but he could recognize a lot of face cards in the same suit when they were staring him in the face. 

He’d learned something through all his loses, though. The point of this game wasn’t to see who was better at cards. It was to see who was a better liar. And Daniel was a very good liar. So he let a frown flutter across his face for just an instant before putting something more neutral on, and looked at Hugh. 

“Call.” Marcus dealt him a card.

Daniel bit his lip, considering. He could win with this hand easily. But he could win a lot more if he could convince the other two that he was going to lose first. “Um. I want to raise the bet.”

“Because that worked out so well for you before,” Marcus said with a smirk. 

“If I win, I want your guys’s underwear too,” Daniel continued, watching Marcus and looking uncertain. 

Marcus looked cocky, and that was a good sign. He’d always looked cocky before when he’d been bluffing. When he actually had good cards, he was a lot more calm. “I like playing you, you’re interesting. And you suck, which is a good combination. Deal. If you lose, you’ve got to…touch yourself in front of us both.”

Daniel blushed a little in spite of himself. He’d expected something like that. It was pretty obvious what Marcus wanted out of all this. And Daniel kind of wanted it too. “Deal.” Both of them got new cards. 

“You guys are such pervs. Just fool around if that’s what you want to do.” Hugh sighed.

“Is that you folding?”

“No, I’m in.”

Marcus dealt out the cards again, and he looked at Daniel, and he smiled. “I want to raise.”

“Okay.”

“If you lose, you can’t put your clothes back on until tomorrow.”

“Marcus,” Hugh warned.

“Not even to go back to your bedroom. And if we lose, we’ll put on the same show you’re going to.”

Daniel looked down at his cards, looked worried, but finally he nodded. “Deal.”

“Hugh?”

“Fine,” Hugh smiled at Daniel. “You know you’re the worst liar.” He put down his cards, showing his two pair.

“I know.” Daniel put his down too, grinned at the look of pure surprise on Hugh’s face. 

“You asshole,” Hugh grumbled. “I thought you were raising the bet because you wanted to lose.” His face had gone totally red. 

“Nope.” 

Marcus, meanwhile, was smiling even more widely than Daniel as he put down his own cards, which were terrible. “Well, Daniel won fair and square, Hugh,” he said. Clearly Hugh had been right, he’d been planning this, and had raised the bet that last time because he’d wanted to lose. Marcus stood, slid down his underwear, and slid them over to Daniel as he stood there, hard and unbothered. “You going to pay up?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hugh stood as well and stripped with a sigh, tossing his briefs on the table. His own hard on showed that he was more into this than he was pretending to be. 

Daniel smiled, took both pairs of underwear, and leaned back, sitting on them. “I think you guys owe me a show?”

There was, vaguely, a reason why this wasn’t a good idea, but hormones were making Daniel forget why and he wasn’t the only one. Marcus grinned at Hugh, who smiled back, and they got up and sat on the couch beside each other, clearly excited.

Daniel watched as Marcus reached down and started to stroke himself, pretending not to be self-conscious about being watched, and a moment later Hugh did the same, not making eye contact with either of them as he did. 

Daniel wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but he ended up totally transfixed by the two of them, sitting there, eyes half closed, flushed in the face, rhythmically moving against themselves. Daniel wanted to touch himself too, but he was worried it would seem weird if he did that watching his friends. He couldn’t take his eyes off them.

“Hey,” Hugh breathed, pausing. He opened his eyes, squinted down at Daniel. 

“What?” Marcus didn’t stop.

“This isn’t much of a reward for Daniel.”

“Oh.” Marcus looked down now, considered. “I guess not.”

“I’m fine,” Daniel promised, warm. 

The other two looked at each other, grinned. And pulled Daniel up onto the couch between them. “Sure you are,” Hugh whispered, hand on Daniel’s thigh. “Instead of watching us, maybe we could all help each other out?”

“Um…”

“It’s what friends are for, right?” Marcus asked on his other side. “If you want to, I mean.”

Daniel wanted to. Or his hormones did, which was the same thing. “Yeah.” 

A second later a hand closed around his erection, and a second one, and Hugh and Marcus started on him together. Daniel started panting and closed his eyes under the sensations, but had the presence of mind to pay them back, reaching out either hand and getting both of them. Hugh and Marcus reached over him and put hands on each other too, and the three of them worked on each other. Daniel had never been touched this way before, two different hands with two different ideas about how to jerk a guy off, Marcus wanting to go hard up and down and Hugh squeezing more gently. 

Daniel tried to stroke Marcus and Hugh evenly but mostly ended up being sporadic as he failed to keep his composure, crying out with every stroke to his sensitive body. Even though they’d started before him, Daniel came first, letting out a sound that wasn’t a word as the other two aimed him so the mess ended up on his chest. Hugh followed him as soon as he was done, and Marcus a second behind him, and somehow both of them managed to make their messes on Daniel too before all three of them collapsed onto the couch, panting. 

“Why am I the one who’s all sticky?” Daniel demanded in a breathy whisper. “I won.”

“It’s a reward,” Marcus told him.

Daniel scowled, put a hand to his sticky chest and then wiped it on Marcus’s belly. “Ew, Daniel!”

“Just sharing the wealth,” Daniel told him, doing the same for Hugh, who didn’t recoil as obviously. “I’m generous.”

“Gross. Last time I jerk off with you.”

“So you don’t want to play another hand of poker?”

Marcus was silent for a minute. “It’s Hugh’s deal.”

“You know, there’s such a thing as enjoying the moment. You don’t have to be like horny dogs.”

“So you don’t want to go again?” Daniel asked.

“I didn’t say that, I just said give me a few minutes to enjoy this, God.” Hugh smiled. “You know they say being scared makes you horny.”

“Maybe that’s why Daniel’s so hard tonight,” Marcus suggested.

“Yeah,” Daniel nodded, swallowing a laugh. He’d forgotten all about the camera in the corner. “That must be it.”

It was the stories they told themselves and each other that were real. It didn’t matter if they were true. And the story Daniel was telling himself right now was that he was having an innocent night of fun with his two best friends, and that everything was good.


	16. Playing Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Ranter, who is sick and asked for sick James, because misery loves company. Feel better soon! :)

“Ugh.”

“Hold still.”

“Don’t want to.”

“Stop talking.”

“Ron…”

“James.”

“Nh.”

Ron sighed. The thermometer beeped. He took it out of James’s mouth and looked at the readout. “Your temperature’s still high.” 

“ _I_ could have told you that.”

Ron took the cloth off James’s forehead, replaced with a new cold one. “If it doesn’t break by tonight, I’m taking you to a doctor.”

“Don’t threaten me, I’m sick,” James grumbled. Being sick made James grumpy. Which was at turns cute and extremely frustrating. 

“And I’d like it if you could get better,” Ron said, rubbing James’s belly. At least he wasn’t throwing up. “You’re the only person I know who feels threatened by someone taking care of them.”

“Your bedside manner could use some work, you know.”

“I’ll work on my bedside manner when I can trust you to take your medicine if I’m not standing there.”

“I _forgot._ ”

“You don’t like the taste of it so you didn’t take it,” Ron corrected. “That’s not the same, and don’t lie to me.”

“Ugh,” James huffed, nestling into his blankets a little. “I don’t want to be sick anymore.”

“Then do as I say?” Ron suggested. “Things like taking your medicine will help you feel better.” 

“Medicine can’t stop a cold, it can only alleviate the symptoms.”

Ron nodded. “Yeah. And the symptoms are the reason you’re laid out in bed, dummy.”

James was quiet for a minute at that. “Just because you’re right doesn’t mean that I agree with you.”

“No, because why should being sick make you reasonable?” Ron asked. 

James looked away. “I’m really hot.”

“Yeah…” Ron was a little worried about James’s fever. “You know, you should have a bath. A cold one. It’ll help you feel better.”

“I don’t want to get up.”

“I know.” Ron pulled the blankets away from James and stood, reaching under him and bending his knees. 

“Ron…”

“Hold on.” Ron lifted, getting James out of bed and into his arms. “There we go. Let’s get you in the bathtub.”

“This is embarrassing.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Ron told him. “There’s nothing wrong with needing to be taken care of sometimes.”

“Yeah, but…”

“You take care of me all the time, remember?”

“I guess.” James relented, and he put his arms around Ron’s neck. “It’s nice.”

“I know.” Ron was careful as he carried James out of the bedroom and down the hall, setting him on the toilet in the bathroom to undress him. His clothes were all sick smelling, so Ron put them right in the laundry hamper and started running the bathtub. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” James muttered quietly as the bathtub filled. 

“Of course,” Ron said, smiling at James and helping him stand. “What’s the point of a boyfriend if he can’t take care of you sometimes?”

James was quiet as he got into the tub, and when it was full, Ron turned off the water, letting James sit there in the cool water and hopefully encourage his body to stop trying to light itself on fire to get rid of the virus infecting it. 

“I had a weird dream last night,” James said after a while. He was swishing the water around with one hand. 

“Yeah.” Ron nodded, unsurprised. “There’s a reason why the phrase ‘fever dream’ exists.”

“I guess. You got hurt, in the dream. And I got really scared. Really, really scared. And I tried really hard to save you, but I just ended up hurting you more.” James fell silent after that, still playing with the water. 

Ron patted his head, scooping some cold water into James’s hair. “It was just a dream. We both know you’d never hurt me.”

“I know, but…” James shook his head. “Anyway. That’s why I called you at five in the morning. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” All Ron had known was that James had needed him to come over, so he had. “I’ll always come over when you need me to.”

James nodded, looking down at his hands. “I love you,” he muttered.

“I love you too.”

James sat there in the bath for a long time, until he was ready to get out, and Ron drained the tub. “Stay here while I go get you some clean clothes,” he said, and hurried to the bedroom to find some. He came back with one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts for James to put on, and between the two of them they got James dried off and dressed. 

“Let’s go downstairs,” James said as he shook Ron off and walked out of the bathroom on his own.

“You should rest.”

“I’ve been resting for three days. And you keep saying I should eat more.” James smiled at him. “Not listening to you hasn’t helped me get better, so I’m going to give listening to you a try.”

“Finally,” Ron laughed, and he held James’s hand all the way down the stairs and sat him in a chair in the kitchen. He rummaged in the fridge and came out with the container full of chicken soup he’d made the other day, spooning some into a bowl and sticking it in the microwave for James. 

“Some for yourself too,” James said as Ron made to put it away. 

“I’m fine.” Ron wasn’t hungry.

“You’ve been spending all your time with me. I haven’t seen you eat either. Some for you,” James put some of his usual dominance in his voice, and Ron smiled, spooned out some soup for himself as well. 

James coughed when Ron set the bowl in front of him, but he picked up the spoon and started eating methodically. “You made this from scratch, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Ron said with a nod.

“You could have poured it from a can and that would have been fine.”

“No, it wouldn’t have.” James was worth more than a can of soup. 

James smiled. “It means a lot to me that you didn’t. I really appreciate how much you’ve been helping me the last few days. I know I don’t show it much and I’m kind of bitchy.”

Ron shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. It’s kind of funny to see you act like such a baby.”

“Don’t ruin the moment. I’m apologizing.”

“Sorry.”

James chuckled, broke into a coughing fit again. “I’m sorry,” he said when he recovered. “I should have done what you said from the start.”

“You’d still be sick if you had,” Ron admitted. “Just maybe not feeling quite so wiped out. I didn’t do that much.”

“That’s not true. You’re pretty good at playing doctor.”

Ron smirked. “When you’re feeling a bit better maybe I’ll give you a checkup and we’ll see how good.”

“Careful, I’m not so feverish that I’m forgetting things like I was yesterday.”

That had been pretty strange. James had told him the entire plot of this novel that didn’t exist and then forgotten all about it. 

“I hope not,” Ron said, patting James’s hand. “It’ll give you something to look forward to when you’re better.” 

“But you’ll keep nursing me back to health until then, right?” 

Ron nodded. “Of course.”

“Good.” James smiled, some colour coming back to his face for the first time in a few days. “Good boy.”

He had another coughing fit after that and couldn’t eat much more, and Ron had to take him back to bed afterwards. But James’s fever broke that night, which Ron knew because he stayed by his bed all night.


	17. Alone Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for Folkendefanel on Tumblr, who requested Sam breaking the fourth wall. Which being Sam, of course happened creepily. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“You have to meet with your board of directors tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to meet with the board of directors,” Sam said, sighing. “Bunch of grabby bastards who’d loot my corpse before it was cold.”

“Yeah. And Solomon’s corpse is barely cold and they want to loot it. And if you don’t want them looting your company right out from under you, you have to go to the board meeting.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. “You’re awfully invested in me staying in charge. I’d assumed you would want the company torn apart and me with it.”

Henry was quiet for a long minute or two. Sam waited. He as a patient person. And his patience usually paid off, like it had yesterday. “It’s going to be chaos if you don’t consolidate power. Who knows how many people will end up dead if you don’t show everyone you’re the boss right away.”

“Hm,” Sam grunted, smiling. “Including you, of course.”

“Yeah, including me.” Henry sounded empty. 

Sam had a feeling that Henry was just saying what he wanted to hear, but that was okay for now. It wasn’t fun if Henry wasn’t thinking that he was up to something that Sam didn’t know about. 

Frowning at something, Sam stretched. “Fine, I’ll go to the board meeting tomorrow. You can come with me.”

“You think they’re going to be threatened by me?” Sam could hear the disbelief in Henry’s voice. 

“They will be when you have a gun and I don’t, and when they realize who really shot Solomon.” Sam paused, thinking. Maybe he’d have Henry kill one of them, just to show that he was serious. “Maybe I’ll have you kill one of them, just….” He trailed off. 

“What, I’m going to be your hitman now?” Henry snorted. “You’ll be the one who ends up with a bullet in your brain.”

Sam wasn’t entirely paying attention to Henry. “That seems unlikely. Who’d take care of you then? Nobody understands you like I do, Henry.”

“Don’t start with that,” Henry sighed, his voice getting distant as he turned away. “We’re not friends and that’s not going to change.”

“Shared culpability does wonderful things for friendships,” Sam told him, smiling. He reached into his coat pocket and took out his gun, quietly checked the magazine and set it on the table in front of him. “There you go,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “There’s bullets in it. Put one in my brain.”

“Sam.”

“I dare you,” Sam said. He knew Henry wasn’t going to do it. “One click, you can rid the world of me before I hurt anyone else. All you have to do is murder me in cold blood. No big deal, you’ve already done it once.”

Henry was quiet, doing that thing where he brooded before making the decision he’d been obviously going to make the whole time. Sure enough, he said, “put that away before someone gets hurt.”

Sam chuckled, took his gun off the table. He kept in his hands, not done with it yet. 

_Shut up_ , he thought, smiling at Henry. “Do you know how to drive?”

“No.”

“Learn.”

“You don’t trust any of your father’s people, do you?”

“No,” Sam said. “And I haven’t figured out which of them are going to really be my people yet.”

“Well, I can’t learn to drive before tomorrow’s board meeting,” Henry told him. “So you’ll have to rely on Tristan.”

“Yes. I know where his daughter lives, so I’m sure we can count on him.” Sam smiled. “I’m hungry. Go get me something to eat.”

He wasn’t hungry.

“What do you want?”

“A hamburger. Not a frozen one from the grocery store.”

Henry sighed, and Sam heard him stand. “Okay. I’ll be back when it’s ready.”

He was going to talk to Sam’s various employees on the way, Sam was sure. He frowned again. “Don’t get lost.”

“I already am,” Henry muttered, and Sam heard the door open. 

He was so dramatic. “You’re so…nevermind. Just go.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Henry left, pulling the door shut with a thud. 

Once he was gone, Sam sighed, waiting long enough for him to get away to the kitchen, tapping his gun onto his palm. 

“God,” he said. “You’re annoying.”

There was nobody in the room except for him. He was just sitting there, by himself, talking to…

“Oh, shut up.” Sam sneered, lifted his gun. “I don’t need someone knowing my thoughts before I think them, or writing them out before I say them.”

What?

“I’d be a little more sympathetic to you if you were on my side, but I don’t think you are.” Sam pointed the gun at something in the room, the barrel long and heavy, looking longer because I was staring down it as it…

“You really don’t know how to stop talking, do you?” Sam pulled the trigger, and I only heard half the bang. 

“That’s better. Jesus, he was annoying. I guess that just leaves you and me now. Heh. You thought I didn’t realize you were there, didn’t you?”

“Come on, I’m not stupid. Why did that stupid little bird need to be chirping all the time if he wasn’t talking to someone? I know you’re out there, watching me. You get off on it? Watching me torture Henry, watching me hurt people? Or maybe you’re waiting for me to lose, waiting for that inevitable moment when the bad guy dies, his life’s work collapsing around him, that moment of emotional triumph where it turns out that good really does prevail in the end. Ha. That’s not now the world works. And even if it did, who says I’m the bad guy? Even your friend there never did. Maybe this is a story where I win in the end. I’m sure winning now.”

“Oh, you don’t know where I am without your in, do you? I’ll help you out. I’m closer to you now. Must suck, not being able to see me. You’re so used to it, losing it must hurt. I’m right in front of you now.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to shoot you. I left my gun on the table. That click, can you hear that? That’s a switchblade. You’ll last a lot longer if I use that. You won’t thank me. Or maybe you will. I mean, you’ve been following me this whole time. Don’t you want to know what it’s really like, to be in poor Henry’s position? I don’t like you as much as I like him, so I’ll probably just use the knife a little bit.”

“Hold still. This is going to hurt a little.”


	18. Night Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also requested by Folkendefanel, though this was came more as a discussion about Pax inviting himself to a party with Nate and accidentally getting high.

“Hold on, wait,” Pax said, tugging at Nate’s arm. 

“What?”

“Maybe this was a bad idea.”

Nate looked at Pax, raising an eyebrow in that distracting way that he did. “I don’t think so.”

Pax wasn’t about to be distracted. “See, that’s how I know it’s a bad idea. Your ideas all suck. Oh, God. I should have stayed home. I wasn’t invited. I can’t come. They’re going to sic their attack llamas on me or something. I’m too young to star in a funeral, Nate.”

Nate chuckled, that chuckle that he chuckled when he was about to nicely tell Pax that there was nothing to worry about. “It’s fine. They’ll like you.”

“Obviously. I’m worried about being attacked before then.” Nate thought that Pax’s anxiety stemmed from insecurity. That wasn’t at all it. It stemmed from his utter lack of confidence in the rational power of other people. 

“It’s fine. I told them I was bringing you.”

“Oh. Well, I wish you hadn’t done that, now I have to go.” Nate was very overbearing sometimes.

“You _wanted_ to go. You got very annoyed when you thought I was going to go without you.”

“Yes, but that was the other day. Pax from the other day is untrustworthy and you shouldn’t listen to him. Current Pax is pretty sure this is a bad idea.”

“That sounds suspiciously like you’re subscribing to the theory of linear time,” Nate warned. “Which I’m pretty sure you don’t want to do, if the talk last week is any indication.” 

Pax scowled. Stupid observant Nate. “I always forget that you pay attention when I talk.”

“Always,” Nate promised, kissing Pax on the forehead. “Come on.”

“Okay, but I pre-emptively blame you for anything that goes wrong.”

“Of course.” Nate dragged Pax the rest of the way up some strange driveway lined with strange plants—probably food for the attack llamas—and to a doorstep with a little statue of a cat on it. It was very tacky. He rang the doorbell. Pax could hear music in the house. Nate could probably hear it too, even with his substandard hearing. It was kind of loud. Hopefully the neighbours wouldn’t get mad. They might call the police and then everyone would get arrested and Pax’s sordid criminal past would be uncovered and that would be kind of bad. 

Just as Pax was wondering how anyone was going to hear the doorbell over all the police-summoning music, the door was pulled open by some cool looking guy who must have been Nate’s friend. “Hey, Seaworthy!”

“Carden,” Nate and this guy did that one arm hug thing that Pax had observed Nate do with his friends and which he interpreted as some strange football ritual, which made him think that this person was probably someone Nate knew from the football team. A hypothesis supported by the fact that Nate had told Pax about the party by saying his friend from the football team was having a party. Carden was probably his last name and he was tall and darker than Nate and looked like someone who would play football in terms of physical stature and presumed ability to snap Pax in half. 

“This it the mysterious boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” Nate patted Pax on the shoulder. “Pax. Joe.”

“Hi,” Pax squeaked at Joe. “Nice to meet you. Um. Sorry for just, you know, coming, when you don’t know me and all, I hope that’s not awkward or weird of you. I don’t mind leaving it if is, I can wait in Nate’s car and…”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Pax and Nate were waved into the house. “Come on in. Nate never fucking shuts up about you.”

Pax nodded, stepping inside the house. “That sounds like Nate. He has a bit of an issue with talking too much. Something I’m trying to work on.”

“How’s it working so far?”

“I’m having limited success,” Pax said as they took off their shoes. There was sort of a pile but he put his nicely beside the pile like a normal person, and then let Nate’s friend show them into the house. It was a nice house, though probably nicer when it wasn’t full of teenagers, but that was okay. The lights were low and people were sitting around and standing and mostly talking to each other, with some of them playing games here and there. There was a table near one wall with snacks on it. Nobody was naked or wearing a lampshade or throwing up, so Pax decided that this was a perfectly respectable party and that he would let Nate attend. “You have a very fancy house.”

“Thanks, I’ll let my folks know.” The doorbell rang again and Joe turned around, patting Nate on the shoulder in a friendly way and leaving him and Pax standing there. 

“See?” Nate said, rubbing Pax’s arm. “Told you it was fine.”

“That,” Pax told him, “remains to be seen. There are a lot of people here and I haven’t confirmed that none of them is a murderer, though I don’t see any evidence that any of them are wearing hidden knives, so that’s something.”

“Pax.” Nate narrowed his eyes. “You’re wearing hidden knives, aren’t you?”

In fact, Pax was. “They wouldn’t be hidden if I told you that,” he said, taking Nate’s hand. “Come on, introduce me to all your friends.”

Nate’s friends were all very nice and they all seemed perfectly happy to have Pax there, and Pax did his very best to be charming to convince them that he wasn’t a serial killer and/or there to rob them of all their money. Nate got talking to some people he knew and Pax started to get bored, and he felt that he was comfortable enough to wander away a bit. When Nate glanced at him, Pax nodded at the table with food, and Nate smiled, made some vague gesture that probably meant he wanted some too. 

Pax was a master of nonverbal communication, so he went over and got a little plate for Nate and one for himself, piling things that looked sort of healthy on Nate’s plate but peering at the food carefully before putting anything on his own. 

“You allergic to something?” Pax looked up, one of Nate’s friends was standing there with a plate of cookies, which he set down on the table. His name was Stanley and he needed to wash his hair, but he seemed friendly. 

Pax smiled at him. “No, only shellfish but I don’t eat those anyway. I’m just trying to decide if anything on here is kosher is all.”

“Oh.” Stanley frowned at the food. There was a lot of different kinds of meat, and Pax was pretty sure without worrying too hard about it that all of that was out. “I don’t know, not sure anyone thought about that. Sorry, man.”

“It’s okay.” Pax gave a nod upstairs. “I think He’ll be okay with me eating something where grains were blended the wrong way if it means I don’t go hungry.” Pax was no rabbi, but he did know that hospitality shouldn’t be turned down and it was rude not to eat at someone’s house, plus he was hardly the most observant person in the covenant. Also he was hungry. 

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Stanley patted his shoulder. “Try the cookies if you’re down for it.”

“Thanks, I will.” Pax smiled back and when Stanley went away, he started to judiciously put some food on his little plate, including two of Stanley’s cookies because they looked safe and he was taking zero of most other things. 

Pax ate one of the cookies on the way back to Nate and they were pretty good. Stanley must have used some secret ingredient or something because there was an odd sharp flavour there that Pax thought he recognized, but it was only for a second and he just shrugged it off as being strange party food and handed Nate his plate. “There are no vegetables at this party.”

Nate glanced at him. “You found stuff to eat, right?” he sounded worried. Nate always worried that Pax didn’t eat enough.

“I’m fine,” Pax smiled, showed Nate his plate. “It’s just that you eat too much fried food and I’m worried that you’re going to die of coronary failure at the age of twenty-three.” 

“So you didn’t get me any chicken wings, is what you’re saying.”

“I got you two, that’s enough.” 

“Your boy’s got you whipped, Seaworthy,” one of Nate’s friends slapped on him on the shoulder. 

Nate grinned, one of those grins that suggested he was about to say something Pax would regret. “Only when I…”

“Whatever you’re about to suggest has hypothetically happened will never hypothetically happen again if you finish that sentence, Nate,” Pax warned him, trying not to blush like an idiot. 

“Sorry, dear.” Nate’s friends laughed. Pax chuckled along with them to show that he was in on the joke. He wasn’t going to resort to all the hitting that they liked to do because it was way too heteronormative for him, but laughing at Nate he could do. 

Pax at the second cookie and the rest of the food he’d taken, and took it upon himself to just sort of enjoy being with Nate. He lost track of the conversation after a while, distracted by the framed photo of some cats hanging on the wall. The cats weren’t hanging, they were playing with yarn, but the photo was hanging, and Pax started to wonder why photos hung instead of resting. Surely there were easier ways to get photos on walls that wouldn’t potentially let them fall if a piece of wire or a hook broke. 

The cats seemed like they were having fun. Pax wondered if they belonged to the people who lived here or if they just liked tacky photos of other people’s cats. Was that creepy? If someone was a crazy cat person who thought that their cats were like their children, it was essentially the same as having photos of someone else’s children on the walls, and that was definitely weird, right? And where did the cats for that photo come from? Had they been the photographer’s cats? Did people own cats for the purpose of renting them out for photographs? Were there cat modelling agencies?

“Pax?”

“Yes.” Pax heard Nate, and he also heard Nate’s tone of voice, which suggested he may not have heard Nate the first time. 

“You’ve been staring at that picture for like ten minutes.”

“I want cats,” Pax said vaguely, trying to focus on the people around him again. “Or babies. We can start a modelling agency.”

Nate chuckled, kissed Pax on the temple. “Okay, but you’re not teaching them how to use knives.”

“The cats, or the babies?”

“Either.”

“How will they cut bread and butter sandwiches if I don’t teach them how to use knives?”

“The cats,” Nate asked back. “Or the babies?”

“Both.” These were important questions. Pax wasn’t going to have children with Nate until they’d settled the cats with knives debate. 

Another chuckle. “I’m going to go get a drink. Do you want a Pepsi?”

“Yes.” Pax was thirsty. “Thank you. You’re a good boyfriend, Nate. I’m going to keep you.”

“That’s good to hear. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Okay.” Pax nodded, still looking at the photo.

Nate left, and he was standing there by himself for a minute with Nate’s friends. “So how did you and Nate meet?” One of Nate’s friends was a very tall person named Wes, and he seemed very nice as he asked Pax that. 

“Um.” Pax frowned, trying to remember for a strange second. “He ran into me with his bike and then I got a job working for his mom. How did you and Nate meet?”

“He tried out for the football team one day.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Pax decided, nodding along as he tried to work through that. Nate was indeed on the football team. “I’ll accept that story, but only if Nate corroborates it. Where is Nate, anyway? Did he get lost? He’s got a terrible sense of direction, can’t even ride his bike without hitting people with it.” Pax looked around, trying to find Nate in this strange crowd of people. “I should go find him.”

“He just went to go get you a drink,” Wes was frowning at him. “Remember?”

“No, memories aren’t real, they’re just propaganda sent by the past to make you think it existed as anything other than a mess of ink and deteriorating infrastructure made out of cows.” There was a couch there, no Nate, a food table in the back, a small table with some people playing cards, Nate wasn’t there either, a dartboard with a few people around it…

Pax’s eyes narrowed. “I’m going to go play darts,” he announced, turning and setting off in that direction with purpose and determination.

“Okay, have fun,” Wes’s voice got distant as Pax moved away from him, heading determinedly over to the game of darts. There were three people playing, and they were just about to start. 

“I want to play too,” Pax announced, looking intently at the dartboard. He was going to poke it with _so many_ darts.

“Sure, you got money?” The person who asked that was not much taller than Pax but twice as wide, and Pax couldn’t remember if they’d been introduced or not. His name was Trevor, Pax thought. So maybe they had. 

“Yes,” Pax did. He reached into his pocket for his wallet, then reached again when he missed the first time, and pulled it out. Everyone seemed to have put five dollars on the table there, and so that was what Pax did too, because he was good at intuiting his next action through contextual clues. And contextual clues were telling Pax exactly what he had to do to put all those five dollars in his pocket. 

“Winner takes it all,” Trevor said, and the game started. Pax watched them all play, and some of them were okay. Trevor was the best, scoring a hundred and forty-six points. Pax threw last, and scored a hundred and forty-five points. “Too bad, chumps.”

Fortunately, Pax didn’t have to demand the rematch, because someone did it for him. This time they all had to put down ten dollars. Pax lost that game by two points, and the second rematch by one point. 

Nate showed up just as Pax was putting down his last money, a twenty, for the fourth game. One of their players had chickened out and they were down to three. “Oh, no.”

“Hey,” Trevor said to Nate. “He started playing of his own volition. Not my fault.”

“Hi, Nate. Where were you?”

“I was talking to someone. I got you a Pepsi.” Nate did indeed have a Pepsi in his hand. That was nice of him, but Pax was busy. “What are you doing?”

“Winning at darts. I’m very good at darts.” Pax grinned at Nate. 

Nate held back a smile, looked at Trevor. “You really don’t want to do this.” 

“Of course I do.” Trevor smiled. “It’s his money, he can give it to me if he wants.”

“Let’s play,” Pax suggested, gesturing for Trevor to go first. 

Nate sighed. 

Trevor won with a hundred and fifty-eight points to Pax’s one fifty-seven. Pax smiled at him as he took all the money. “One more game?”

“You’re broke.”

“I’ll give you everything in Nate’s wallet. All or nothing, come on. Masculinity or something, don’t wimp out, you’re a football person, aren’t you?”

“Pax,” Nate said, pleading a little. “Don’t?”

“I already am, I’m committed to this, Nate.” 

“Your guy’s got a gambling problem, Seaworthy,” Trevor said to Nate. “It’s working out for me at the moment, but you might want to get it looked at later. I’m in,” he added, looking at Pax. “You get Nate’s money and I’ll play you for it.” Their third player had left, poor and sad. Pax felt bad for him. 

“Nate, give me your wallet.”

“Pax, really?”

“Yes, really, Nate. Come on.” Pax fixed Nate with a stare, and after a minute Nate sighed, pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and handed it over. Pax grinned, took out the eighty dollars that was in there and put it on the table. Trevor put down all the money he’d won so far, which amounted to a hundred and forty dollars. 

“It’s not an even bet, but I’ll make it,” Trevor said with a grin. 

“You’re so asking for this, man,” Nate muttered, as Trevor started to throw. 

“Aw, come on. No hard feelings. It’s all in fun, right, Pax?”

“Right.” Pax watched him. He scored one fifty-nine. 

“Yours to lose, Pax.”

“I left you alone for ten minutes,” Nate said, shaking his head at Pax.

“I was bored.”

Trevor was counting the money already. Pax took the darts. “It’s just money, Seaworthy, get over it.”

Nate gave his buddy a look, then he turned to Pax. “Just do it.”

Pax grinned, gave Nate a single nod. And without looking at the board, he threw the first dart, and the second before that one had even hit, and the third as the first thunk hit the board. 

Trevor was staring at the dartboard. Pax wandered over and took the money out of his hands. “I win.”

“How did you…” 

“I was trained by a world-class master of darts in all the seediest bars of the European south,” Pax explained, handing Nate back his eighty dollars with interest and then taking the rest for himself. “They say it’s all in the wrist, but it’s actually the core muscles. Let’s play again at the next party. Bring more money.”

“You totally hustled me.”

“I tried to warn you,” Nate told Trevor, hitting him on the back. “It’s just money, Hargrave. And it’s all in good fun.”

“Can I have that Pepsi now?” Pax asked. “I’m thirsty. Actually I’m kind of hungry. I didn’t get chips earlier. Nate, let’s go get some chips.”

“Okay, okay. See you.” Nate waved at Trevor as Pax led him off towards the chips. “You know you’re frighteningly impressive.”

“I know. I’m also frighteningly hungry all of the sudden.” It was very far to the chips. “Why do you all hit each other all the time? Is it some kind of holdover from the cretaceous past when men had to do that, or are you all just performing heteronormativity on each other all the time? Because I don’t like heteronormativity, Nate, and I think if you thought about it, you wouldn’t like it either. You should perform it less and talk to your male friends like a civilized person. Also, all your friends seem to be male. Did you notice that there are hardly any girls at this party? I hope that Joe didn’t host a boys-only party, because that’s sexist and also might lead to male bonding which I think is code for orgies, and if there’s going to be an orgy, we’re going home. I guess you could stay if you really want, but…”

“Pax, are you okay?”

Pax looked at Nate, sipping his Pepsi. Nate looked worried. “I’m fine. I’m very calm. I’m just hungry. Where are the chips?”

Nate frowned, leaned in. Pax thought he wanted a kiss and tilted his head up, but Nate looked into his eyes. “You…ate one of Stan’s cookies, didn’t you?”

“I ate two,” Pax corrected, because precision was important. He leaned up and kissed Nate, since Nate wasn’t doing it. 

Nate closed his eyes for a minute, then opened them. “Okay.”

“Should I not have eaten them? He told me it was okay and I wasn’t eating most of the other food, so I thought it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Nobody cares if you eat them, but I was counting on your natural suspicion to keep you away from strange foods. So…my bad, and now you’re high.”

“Oh.” Pax thought about that for a bit. He supposed that made sense. He giggled a little. “Okay. I’m probably going to be angry about this tomorrow.”

“Probably.”

Clinging to Nate’s arm, Pax grinned some more. “I’m not angry about it now, though. I’m just super hungry. Bring me to the chips, please?”

“Yeah, come on.”

“And make sure I don’t accidentally eat any more drugs, that would also be good.” Pax had assumed that the light feeling he had everywhere was because he was having fun at the party, and because he’d been having fun taking money from people. 

“I’ll do that, don’t worry.”

“Why are there so many pictures of cats in this house?” Pax asked, distracted by yet another one. The cats in this one were in a box. 

“I’ll ask Joe’s dad next time I see him.”

“Okay. Report back to me, Seaworthy. I expect answers.” Pax giggled again. “Seaworthy. All your friends call you that.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re like a boat. You even ship things.” Pax thought about it some more. “Your mom is the captain, though. You’re just her first mate. Or maybe I am. We should get your mom a hilarious hat for her birthday, it’s coming up and I think you forgot about it. She could wear it to important meetings to show people how dedicated she is to shipping.” Pax laughed at his mental image of Natalie in a bit pirate hat. “But no parrot. We’re not getting her a parrot because I hate parrots. I’m just going to keep calling you Nate. I’m your friend too, but I like you more than your football friends do. The boy-adjective gives me first name privileges with you.”

“Yes it does, Pax.”

Finally, they arrived at the chips, where Pax took some and put them on another paper plate, which Nate helped him not drop.

“Partying a little hard?” That was Joe again. Pax had something to ask him, but it had to do with cats and he couldn’t remember what.

“He ate some of Stan’s cookies.”

“Only two,” Pax said, mouth full of chips. They were dill pickle, which sucked. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry, man.”

“He’s okay,” Nate assured him. “He’s just hungry.”

“And a bit dizzy,” Pax reported. “But as long as you don’t get me to tightrope walk anytime soon, it won’t matter. There’s not a tightrope here, is there?”

“There’s not,” Joe confirmed, and Pax nodded. 

“Good. That would be strange and it wouldn’t go with the cat theme that you have going on here. And I thought I had to worry about attack llamas.” Pax giggled again. He was funny. 

“Yeah, that’s my dad.” Joe laughed.

“Your dad’s a cat?” Pax peered at him. “It must be a recessive gene.”

“Maybe we should go sit down for a bit,” Nate suggested. 

“I don’t need to sit down.”

“You’re leaning on me like you’re about to fall through the floor.”

It wasn’t Pax’s fault the house was tilted, but he nodded with another giggle and let Nate lead him to somewhere with a sofa, where they sat together. “There we go.”

“This is a nice sofa,” Pax said, eating more chips. “It’s a nice party. Thanks for letting me come.”

“It would have been boring without you.”

“I’m sorry,” Pax said suddenly. “You probably don’t want to spend all night following me around like this.”

Nate smiled, and he kissed Pax on the cheek. Someone shouted at him to cut out the PDA. Not the best start to an orgy Pax had ever heard. “I’m going to spend my whole life following you around, what’s one night?”

Pax blushed a little, choking a bit on his chips. “You really just say things without even thinking about them, don’t you?”

“Yep. Look, have you met Denver? He likes birds.”

Pax narrowed his eyes at the boy who’d just sat on the chair near them. “You’re wrong.”

“Birds are wicked, dude.”

Pax narrowed his eyes more, which made them close, so he opened them again. “Yes. But in the literal sense of being pawns of some evil deity. Don’t worry, I’ll explain.”

He did, the brief version. Nate started to talk to someone else while he did, but that was okay. Nate had heard it before. 

It was a fun party, parties were fun. Pax met lots of new people and hung out with Nate and ate more than he should have and even danced a little bit. Nate was mostly with him through the night, stopping him from standing on tables and unscrewing door hinges and doing backflips to prove he could, and at one point when Pax took a short nap Nate was there when he fell asleep and when he woke up later. 

People started to leave at some point, probably because they were diurnal, and Pax scoffed at them even though he was kind of tired. But then Nate started to leave too, so Pax said goodbye to all of Nate’s friends who might have been his friends now too and let Nate tie his shoes and lead him down the driveway with the weird plants and into his car, where Pax snuggled a little into the seat. “That was fun.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Did you have fun? Me being there didn’t ruin your fun, right?” Pax didn’t want to have fun if it meant Nate couldn’t. 

“No, it was a lot more fun with you there, promise.”

“Okay.” Pax believed Nate. Nate was a trustworthy sort, it was one of the reasons Pax liked him. “I had fun too. And not just because of the accidental drugs. I think. I’m still kind of high.”

“Yeah, a little.”

“I hope we can go to more parties,” Pax continued, as Nate started to drive. 

“Trust me, there are always more parties. You’ll get invited next time.”

“Good.” Pax was quiet for a bit, watching the lights outside the car. They were pretty. “Maybe I should start going back to school. I know I stopped because of the whole people possibly wanting to kill me thing, but I think it’s safe.”

“I’m sure it is,” Nate agreed. 

“I have friends there now. Besides you, I mean. You were already there. But I see you anyway. And then we could get invited to more social events.”

Stopped at a red light, Nate closed his eyes for a second. “You can’t wear your knives to school.”

“I can wear whatever I want. There’s no dress code. I’ve seen what you wear to that school, Nate.”

“I’m going to frisk you every morning so you don’t go to school armed.”

Pax huffed. “Fine. I’m going to frisk you too for fairness.”

“Then we’re going to have to get up pretty early.” The light went green, and Nate started driving again. 

“I have knives now,” Pax reminded him. “You should frisk me when we get home.”

“You’re going to go to bed when we get home.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Yes, you are.”

Yes, Pax was. “Fair enough. Tomorrow then. When I’m, you know.”

“Sober and consenting?”

“I was going to say awake, but yes, also that. You’re so nice, Nate. I’m so lucky that you exist and that you like me.”

“I’m the one who’s lucky, Pax. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Nate kept driving. Pax kept looking out the window, for a few minutes anyway. Then he fell asleep in the passenger seat, happy and content and exhausted. Fun was a lot of work.


	19. Conversation Partners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for an anonymous requester on Tumblr, who asked for James talking to plants on an acid trip.

“Wow…”

“What?”

“It’s really pretty.”

“What is?”

“That.”

“The road?”

“No,” James said, shaking his head and pointing out through the windshield of Ron’s car. At the road. “ _That_.”

Ron sighed. They’d been at work and James, reading a book as he ate his lunch, had grabbed Spike’s drink out of the fridge instead of his own. And normally Ron would love to make a joke about Spike spiking his drinks, but not when his boyfriend was the one drinking them and now he was high as a kite and hallucinating. 

Honestly, the store was full of weird herbs and James a witch. He should know better than to not pay attention to what he was drinking. 

After a few curt words with Spike about _being more careful with your psychedelic drugs, Jesus Christ_ , Ron had managed to get James into the car and was taking him home. Hopefully Josephine wasn’t around, because she was going to be pissed if he came in with her grandson tripping on acid. 

“Yeah,” Ron agreed, because it was easier. “It is really pretty.” 

“I want to taste it.”

“No.”

“Why?” James whinged.

“Because we’re going too fast,” Ron said, quiet reasonably. They were stopped at a red light. 

“We could slow down,” James suggested. 

“No, we can’t.”

“I’m ordering you to slow down.”

Ron felt pretty good about disobeying that order, and when the light turned green, he started driving again. James mostly just looked out the window for the rest of the ride home, which was better than him trying to talk to the seatbelt like he’d been at first. 

When they got out of the car, Ron had to undo the seatbelt and open the door for James, but as he helped James out of the car, James suddenly turned his head. “Oh, wow.”

“What is it now?” He just wanted to go in the house and ride out however long this was going to take. 

“There’s music,” James said, tilting his head towards the back yard. “Ron, there’s music over there.”

“There’s really not, James,” Ron sighed. This was going to be a long day. 

“No, there is.” James broke out of Ron’s hold, headed with determination for the backyard. 

Sighing, Ron followed him. James wasn’t moving very fast, but he also didn’t look likely to wander anywhere and it wasn’t like the garden was dangerous—theoretically. 

At least, Ron was pretty sure it wasn’t dangerous to James. A few of the plants there hated him, he was positive. 

James was grinning like crazy as he entered the garden, eyes closed. “It’s so pretty,” he said quietly. And he sat down right there on the grass, listening to the garden. “They’re singing.” 

“Are they?” Ron asked, sitting with him. It was a nice enough day to sit together outside. Even if James was visiting an alternate reality at the moment. “What are they singing about?”

“Lots of things,” James said, swaying a little. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Okay,” Ron said, and for a while he just sat there and watched James listen to music that didn’t exist. He really was very pretty, sitting there with his eyes closed, obviously unreservedly happy. It was a rare sight. Ron took a few secret pictures of him while he sat. 

After a bit, though, James opened his eyes, looking over to the side at the rosebushes. “What?”

“What?”

“Shh…” James said, crawling over to the roses. “I’m listening.”

James was listening to the plant, Ron realized. Not him. 

Cool.

“Yeah,” James said seriously, nodding. “You’re right. I never thought about that. Oh…” James appeared thoughtful. “Yes…that might work. Thank you. Thank you so much…” he reached out and patted one of the flowers on the plant before moving over to the next one. “I’m listening.”

Ron just sort of watched as James crawled through the garden, chatting with the plants. His phone buzzed. 

_You get him home okay?_

_Yes,_ he sent to Spike. _He’s talking to plants._

_He always talks to plants._

_They’re talking back._

It was a good while before Spike answered again, and by then James had moved onto the huge ivy plant that Ron had been trapped in when they’d met. _He’ll be fine in the morning._

Ron sighed. _You owe him so many apologies._

_I know, I got this. Just focus on making sure he doesn’t eat rocks or some shit. See you tomorrow._

Ron put his phone away, shaking his head as he wandered over to James, who was talking conspiratorially to the ivy. “And he really likes it when I spank him.”

Ron stopped short, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “I like it too,” James continued, giggling a little. “It’s a lot of fun and he’s really pretty like that. I think you’d like to see him like that. Maybe I’ll tie him up out here for you sometime.”

“Why are you telling the plant about our sex life?” Ron asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer. And did it have to be that particular plant? Ron hated that plant. That plant was an asshole. 

Not that plants had personalities. Ron wasn’t even the one tripping acid, God. 

“He was curious,” James said, kicking his feet a little as he smiled at the ivy. “He has a lot invested in our relationship.”

“Does he now?” Ron hadn’t even told Owen anything about what he and James got up to (except for that one ill-timed joke about safewords), and here James was talking to a garden plant about it. “Why does he even care?”

“Why do you think he brought you to me? He knew I was lonely and he could tell you were too. Now we’re not lonely anymore.” James smiled fondly at Ron, patting the plant gently. “You should thank him.”

“I…” Ron sighed. There was no harm in playing along. He sat next to James. “Thank you,” he said to the plant.

“Yes,” James agreed, patting it more. “Thank you.” He tilted his head, listening some more. He giggled. “Okay. I can try that.” 

“What?”

“He thinks you’d like it if I used more rope next time I tied you up, since you enjoyed being stuck inside him so much.”

“I…” Ron flushed, looked away. “He’s not wrong.”

Maybe when James wasn’t on a fucking trip, though. 

Another giggle. “He’s got a lot of good suggestions. I’m going to remember them for later.” Ron doubted James was going to remember anything later. “Oh…” James trailed off, listening some more, some colour going into his face. “That’s a _good_ idea.” He looked at Ron and broke off into a fit of giggles. 

“What?” Ron wasn’t sure if he should be worried or aroused by those giggles. 

“It’s a secret.” James grinned wickedly at him. 

Definitely aroused.

“You shouldn’t keep secrets from your boyfriend,” Ron told him. 

“Shh…” James was listening to the plants again and nodding. “Yeah. I’ll give it a shot. You’re really smart, you know that? No, you are! I never would have thought of that on my own.” He looked over at the apple tree growing nearby. “That’s a good idea too. I don’t suppose you guys know anything about insomnia?”

James’s conversation with the garden went on until it got dark. Ron stayed and just watched him the whole time, not understanding how it was possible to love someone this much.


	20. Time Shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's that time of year again. The time when I use my characters as a sock puppet to complain about Daylight Savings Time.

“Time is fake,” Pax complained. 

“So you keep telling us.”

“And I think this is a good demonstration of why,” he continued, ignoring Nate. “Randomly now it’s just a different time. What is this. Who decided this was a good idea. He—and I know it was a he, because that’s how the patriarchy works—was an idiot and I hope he’s down in hell getting kicked by irritated cows for all eternity. And another thing.”

“You know,” Nate interrupted, looking at Pax. “I just assumed there was another thing. You didn’t need to add that there was another thing. You have limited complaining time, you shouldn’t waste it on redundancies.”

Pax blinked. “I do not have limited complaining time, Nate,” he insisted. “Because I can just add and take away hours at will thanks to some crazy person in the past, which might well be the future. I can theoretically complain for as long as I want.” Honestly, sometimes he wondered if Nate understood anything.

“Theoretically,” Nate agreed, turning into the school’s parking lot. “But in practice that would make you late for class.”

“That’s only because this school hires teachers who aren’t competent in theoretical physics and time travel,” Pax complained. Really, it was a huge oversight. “We shouldn’t have to go to class today.”

“I told you to go to bed early last night.”

“Yes,” Pax said, nodding. He remembered that. “And I ignored you so I could continue reading my stories, Nate.”

“You make them sound like daytime soap operas.”

“That’s essentially what a lot of them are,” Pax muttered, watching the school move around as Nate looked for a parking space. Soap operas with a lot more sex in them. “The Black Panther was trying to hit on Captain America, Nate, I had to see what happened.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And what happened?”

“Oh. Nothing. Captain America is dating the Winter Soldier. But I think they’re going to end up in a threesome by the end.”

“So you stayed up late for nothing?”

“I stayed up late for good writing and characterization and that’s not the point, I shouldn’t have to be held hostage by some chrono-tyrant dictating when it’s going to be what time it’s going to be when nobody wants it, nobody benefits from it and nobody likes it, it just makes us all angry and cranky and slow and I don’t think we should have it anymore, Nate. I’m going to draft a letter to…” Pax broke off into a yawn. 

“To who?”

“I don’t know. The Prime Minster? Someone in Greenwich? The ghosts of the damned? I’ll find out and I’ll send them a strongly-worded letter explaining that this is silly and they need to stop doing it immediately.” 

“Let me know how that works out.” Nate yawned too, which Pax considered a victory since Nate had gone to bed on time. 

“Who do you think I’m going to get to courier the letter?”

“It’s not worth the money to courier a letter with us. Just send it Canada Post.”

“It’s going to be a really long letter,” Pax grumbled as Nate backed into a space between a beaten-up pickup and a small Toyota. “I might carve it on the back of thousands of clocks, just to make a point.”

“The point being?”

“That as a result of time being screwed up, I have a lot of free time on my hands.”

“Ha.”

“I’m serious. What if the space/time continuum gets more damaged than it already is because of this? We’re going to walk into that school and our children are going to be in biology with us and we’ll suddenly be failing because we never learned about the new theories in quantum politics that were developed in 2037.” Pax sighed. 

“I think you’re very tired,” Nate said, getting out of the car and waiting for Pax to do the same. “And it’s messing with your thought patterns.”

“I think that too,” Pax admitted. He waited for Nate to lock the door and headed with him into the school building. “And you know who’s to blame for that?”

“The Prime Minister, someone in Greenwich, the ghosts of the damned and a talented fanfic writer?”

Pax nodded thoughtfully. “I was going to say the patriarchy and the traditional media because everything is their fault, but those are good too. Also birds.”

“It’s always birds,” Nate agreed, because Pax had trained him to agree whenever this got brought up.

“I bet birds invented Daylight Savings Time,” Pax theorized, holding Nate’s hand. Thinking about it, he nodded. “Yes, this makes sense. There was the man who invented it, but he probably let birds talk to him and they told him to screw over future generations of people by mucking up time until it was an unrecognizable pile of nonlinear spaghetti. All in service of the secret bird agenda to take over the world.”

Yes, Pax decided. That was what it was.

“You know what I think?” 

“Of course I know what you think, Nate,” Pax said, shaking his head. “We’re dating and I know you very well and also you’re slightly predictable. You think I’m wrong, but that’s only because you don’t see the world the way I do.”

“I think you’re way too tired and it’s messing with your head, and you’re going to fall asleep in history class.”

Pax rolled his eyes. “Why do we even have history class if time isn’t real? It’s all happening right now, probably, and some asshole just dicked around with the hands on a clock until we all thought it wasn’t.” Pax could probably look outside the nearest window and see the French Revolution happening right here, even if it had happened on a different continent, because if time was fake, space was probably on thin ice too. 

“I think it’s mostly digital now.”

“That,” Pax said, holding up his finger, “was the first mistake. As soon as we stopped using sundials, everything went to hell in a poorly-timed handbasket.”

“I think there were steps in between sundials and digital clocks, though?”

The bell rang, saving Pax having to tell Nate why there weren’t. They didn’t have their homeroom together, and Pax wasn’t an expert in hamartiology (yet), but he was pretty sure that was a sin or something.

Come to think of it, changing time was probably a sin too. It had been one of those things that the big guy had been pretty particular about creating in a certain way, if Pax remembered his Torah right. He’d have to ask someone about that later. 

But for now he sighed, got up on his toes and gave Nate a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Nate, have a good day and try not to get sucked into any time vortices.” 

“I’ll do my best,” Nate promised, kissing Pax back. “I love you too, Pax. No matter how many hours are in the day.”

“Aw,” Pax smiled, feeling fluttery. “Thank you. That means a lot to me in the present circumstances.”

“I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Assuming that lunch wasn’t in the fourteenth century being guillotined by an Egyptian pharaoh for faking the moon landing.”

“Go to class.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Pax was, and he yawned again. 

Maybe he should have just gone to bed earlier.


	21. Celebrating Success

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what might have happened in the main timeline if certain people hadn't turned out to be hiding horned secrets.

“How much longer is this cave?”

Cal had no idea. “It can’t be that deep,” he said to Joey, shining his flashlight around to make sure there weren’t any branching paths. It was just this one, and it was staying nice and wide.

Joey sighed, glancing over his shoulder. At Travis, Cal figured. Which he was always doing. Cal got it, he was worried. “Why don’t you head back for a break?” he suggested.

“I thought the smaller guys needed to go up front?”

“Yeah,” Cal said, shrugging. “But I can handle it. Go see if Travis is okay.”

“Okay.” Joey didn’t need to be told twice, and he scurried back to rejoin the rest of the group about ten paces behind Cal. 

A moment later, to Cal’s surprise, Sully joined him in the front. “You shouldn’t be up here alone,” he grumbled. “If there’s a pit or something you’ll die.”

“Aw, at least now we’ll die together,” Cal teased, smiling at Sully.

“Fuck you. Though I guess Wes and Mick have got that covered.”

“Careful, Sully, your jealous is showing.”

“Your boyfriends aren’t going to like that insinuation.”

Cal snorted, kept walking. The three of them had had a little chat about Sully the other day. Apparently there was a perception of sexual tension between them, which was entirely made up as far as Cal was concerned. He liked Sully, but Sully was irritating. Half the time Cal wanted to shove him against a wall and rough him up and the other half of the time he wanted to stuff something in his mouth to make him stop talking.

Wait. Putting it like that, even in his mind, made it seem weirder than it was. 

Well, if nothing else, Sully seemed to just find Cal a pain in the ass and possibly wanted to drown him or something, so it was just in Mick and Wes’s imaginations, that was all. 

“I don’t see why we can’t all walk together,” Sully grumbled. He grumbled a lot. It was cute.

“In case there’s a cave-in,” Cal told him. “Like if we rock something loose and the ceiling collapses behind us. If there’s distance between us, hopefully the others can get out and get us help.”

“Suddenly I’m not as keen on being up here,” Sully said, pointing his light up at the ceiling with a worried look on his face.

“It’ll be fine,” Cal assured him. “It’s never happened to us yet.”

“Well, that’s not how probability works, but okay. And the midgets go in front in case the path narrows, right?”

Cal smacked his arm. “Yes. It’s easier for us to turn around.”

“But dumbass got scared.”

“Joey’s never done anything like this,” Cal reminded Sully. “Not all of us can hide our fear and concern behind a veneer of world-weariness and snark.”

“It’s a skill,” Sully bragged. “You ever found a tight spot the other guys couldn’t fit in?”

“A few times,” Cal said, nodding. “I’m useful to have around if only because I can fit in a lot of things.”

“And here I thought it was the other way around.”

“You’d be surprised.” Cal grinned. “Bit of both.”

Sully blinked at him. “Ew.”

“Sometimes at the same time.”

“Shut up.”

“I mean that’s why you have your own tent…”

“I really didn’t ask!”

Cal patted Sully on the shoulder, moved past him. “Don’t start what you can’t finish, Sully. I’m not afraid to tell you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sully muttered, glaring. “I don’t care what you do. I don’t need the details.”

“Sure,” Cal said, nodding. “A bit early to be putting up your tent, yeah?”

“What…oh, fuck you!”

“We’ve been through this.” Cal’s flashlight landed on something. Wood. “Oh, hey.”

There was a door built into the rock. “Guys!”

By the time they’d all caught up, Cal had given his light to Sully and was inspecting the door. “Oh wow,” Travis said. “There’s actually something here!”

“Told you,” Cal muttered.

“Is there treasure in there?” Joey asked, clinging to Travis’s arm.

“He can’t see through the door, genius,” Sully said, rolling his eyes even as he shifted excitedly from foot to foot as well.

“Can you pick the lock, Cal?” Mick asked, shining his light on the lock since Sully sucked at aiming. 

“Yeah,” Cal said, nodding. It looked pretty old-fashioned. 

“Guys, be quiet,” Wes told the others, while Cal took out his tools and started to work on the lock.

Two minutes later there was a click, and Cal grinned. “Got you.”

He pushed it open, slowly in case there were traps or some shit, and held out his hand for a light. 

Inside was a good-sized cavern with water dripping somewhere, and against the back wall was a chest, banded with metal, a heavy lock on the front. “Oh, my God,” Cal whispered, pushing the door open and going inside, revealing for the others what was there.

“Holy fuck,” Wes said, as they all filed in after Cal. “It’s here.”

“Fuck yeah!” Sully said, leaping a little in place, then seeming to realize what he’d done and clearing his throat stoically. “I mean, uh. Cool.”

Cal was going to die. He was so giddy. They’d been looking for this for such a long time. He turned, all but leapt on Wes and Mick, cheering. They caught him, and all three of them were laughing. “We found it, guys!” They’d found it together, all of them. Cal kissed Wes, and he kissed Mick, and they kissed each other, and Joey and Travis were kissing near the door, and everyone was kissing.

Except Sully, and Cal noticed him out of the corner of his eye, just sort of standing there awkwardly, trying not to watch. 

“Hey,” Wes said, detaching from Cal, pointing him at Sully. He nodded. 

Cal frowned. Mick smiled, and he nodded to. “Go on.”

A blush crept across Cal’s face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Do it, before the moment passes.”

Cal watched both of them for a good second, saw that they meant it, and so he turned, approached Sully. “Hey.”

“Hey, what do you…” Sully didn’t finish his sentence, because Cal grabbed his shirt, pushed him against the wall and kissed him right there, pressing their lips together hard.

Sully froze for a second, but soon he kissed back, obviously pleased by the noise that slipped through his lips. He pressed against Cal, tense, and his arms came up and wrapped around Cal’s neck. He tasted like tuna. 

When Cal pulled back, looking at Sully with a smile, Wes and Mick were there on either side of them, hands on Cal’s shoulders. Sully just smiled happily for a moment, then blinked, seeing them. “Um…”

“Do you want to stay in our tent tonight?” Wes asked, squeezing Cal’s shoulder.

“Do I…But…” He looked at them, looking worried, then confused. “You want me to…sleep with you?”

Mick smiled, hand on Cal’s backside. “Eventually.”

Cal knew Sully’s answer, because they were still pressed together and he could feel it in Sully’s pants. And Sully could probably also feel Cal adding to Wes and Mick’s invitation. So when Sully nodded, Cal just kissed him again before pulling away. “Let’s open that treasure chest and get out of here,” he said, to all of them.

“Yeah,” Sully agreed, nodding with vigour. 

Okay, maybe there was something to the sexual tension theory after all.


	22. Election Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have many planned modern AU chapters and several requests, but instead I'm expressing disappointment about electoral politics and such, so here's some of that first.

“We should just kill him,” Henry mused, as the news made its latest announcement.

“That’s not really how democracy works,” Sam countered, giggling a little. Not because of what was happening, but because of Henry’s reaction. 

“This isn’t really how democracy works either,” Henry said. The described video on the television was telling them in a monotone about the graph onscreen. 

“This is exactly how democracy works,” Sam told him. “Demos means mob in Latin. Democracy is mob rule.”

“Demos means people, and it means it in Greek,” Henry disagreed.

Sam frowned. “Whatever. People as a collective are always a mob.”

“You don’t even know Greek,” Henry sighed. “And that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.” Sam didn’t know Greek, but he knew a thing or two about people. “Given the chance, they look out for themselves and attack other people. That’s what people do. It’s how we evolved.”

“We evolved by looking out for one another and protecting our weaker pack members.”

“Of our own group, yes. That’s why Derek is still alive. Do you think I should give a shit about the kid the neighbours have kidnapped?”

“Well…” Henry was silent for a second. “First of all, the neighbours had their kid the regular way. Secondly, yes, because that kid is your fucking neighbour, and it’s in the best interest of the whole neighbourhood if you watch out for him and he watches out for you. And before you change it to the kid the mob boss six countries over kidnapped, the whole world is a neighbourhood if you think about it broadly enough.”

Sam thought about that, then laughed for a second. “You were almost convincing until you started sounding like Mr. Rogers at the end there.” 

“Shut up,” Henry muttered. “They’re calling another riding.” 

Sam didn’t care. The election was a foregone conclusion at this point. “You know, arguing with you used to be like trying to fit my head through a brick wall. You used to just default to ‘it’s the right thing to do.’ You’ve gotten better at it.” 

“Thanks,” Henry grunted, annoyed as the newscaster called the riding. “You taught me that I needed to think through my opinions more carefully instead of just falling back on emotion. Because that’s the only way I’m ever going to convince you that you’re wrong and also an idiot.” 

Sam laughed again, sliding closer to Henry on the couch. “Not going to happen, because I’m not.”

“Now who’s defaulting?” 

“Shut up,” Sam said, frowning. Was he?

“Anyway,” Henry said. “I’m going to kill him. His security can’t be that good.” 

“When did killing people you don’t like suddenly become your first recourse?” Sam asked, genuinely curious. “What happened to expressing disappointment through sad sighs and writing strongly-worded letters of condemnation?”

“You happened to those things.” Henry put his arm around Sam. “I don’t see why you’d care.”

“I don’t care about his life. He’s a shithead who really shouldn’t have been allowed out of the maternity ward, never mind a public platform. Kill him if you want to.”

A month ago Sam would have confidently said that Henry wouldn’t. Now he really wasn’t sure. Maybe he honestly was going to go carry out a political assassination. 

It was exciting, wondering. 

“But don’t get caught,” Sam added. “I don’t need to have to deal with that.” 

“I wouldn’t,” Henry said. “A big black guy shooting him would send the wrong message to his supporters. I’d make it look like she did it,” he said, as the television cut to an interview with the person about to come in second place in an election. “Undermine both of their parties at once, collapse the government, let you step into the chaos.” 

Sam was silent for a minute, processing that. “That’s actually a good idea. Very clever.” He really needed to stop forgetting how good Henry was at planning and thinking about the consequences of his actions. “I could have a hand in picking their successors, run both parties. Though you’re assuming I didn’t have a hand in picking him.”

“You didn’t,” Henry said, confident. “Even you have standards. Besides, you think I don’t know about the three seats that he didn’t win because of you?”

Sam had, in fact, thought Henry didn’t know about the minor election fraud he’d carried out in the last week. Huh. Who had told him that? Someone who would soon not have a tongue. “I do have standards. I wouldn’t have picked a blustering idiot who only gets in because other blustering idiots can’t be bothered to develop reading comprehension.” 

Sam may not have been subtle, but he wasn’t that obvious. Plus voting for a xenophobic, racist, homophobic asshole didn’t really help Sam much at all. He stood against just about everything that Sam was.

“I know.” Henry let out a sigh. “This is so stupid.”

“So kill him,” Sam said.

“No, I can’t do that.” 

“Sure you can. You just said you wanted to.”

“That was because I was mad. It’s a bad idea.”

“Would get rid of him,” Sam said. Stupid Henry, deciding to do the right thing. It would have been fun to listen to the news once Henry had killed this guy. 

“And it would make sure his party got elected in every election for the next thirty years by turning their poster pig into a martyr for the cause of whatever the fuck his platform actually is.” Henry snorted. “No, I’ll just let him implode.”

“That’s boring.”

“But useful for you,” Henry said. “In ineffective government is the best kind.” 

“Well, yes. It’s better if I don’t have to worry about someone intelligent trying to do something about me.” 

“Yeah.” Henry chuckled. “Also I’m going to donate a bunch of your money to the charities opposing his policies and stuff.” 

“Well now, hold on,” Sam said, straightening. “We’re not doing that.” 

“Yes, we are,” Henry said, squeezing Sam. “It’s a beautiful day in the fucking neighbourhood.” 

Sam huffed, leaned against Henry’s chest, settling in. “You’re annoying.”

“Yeah. I don’t know why you put up with me.”

“Because who the fuck else am I supposed to have a conversation with?” 

“Derek knows a lot about Pokemon if you want to talk to him.”

“I’d rather cut my own tongue out.”

“You’d like him if you gave him a chance.”

“That seems unlikely,” Sam said, scowling. “Did he just say what I think he said?”

“Yeah.”

“That was one of the seats I rigged. Someone’s going to die for that.”

“You want help?”

“I thought you only hypothetically wanted to kill someone?” 

“I only hypothetically wanted to kill a politician. I’m down to actually kill one of your shithead lackeys who can’t even do his job right.” 

Sam laughed. “You’re so stupid.” 

“Is that a no?”

“Obviously not. There’s that new acid that I want to try out.”

“Alright. Aw, come on, the Green party?” 

Sam snorted, and settled in for an evening of disappointing news with Henry. Mostly it didn’t affect him—he was above the law anyway—but he was wondering more and more if maybe there was something to that neighbourhood bull after all. 

Probably not, but Sam was open-minded enough to consider it.


	23. Walk Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to finally introduce Travis and Joey into the Modern AU.

“See you tomorrow!” Travis called to his teammates as he jogged out of the locker room, opening his phone to see what he missed during practice. He knew what he’d missed. 

Sure enough, there were forty-eight (and counting) texts from Joey, whose wrestling practice finished a half-hour before Travis’s baseball practice. The first several were just some highlights of what his practice had been like and how many of his practices he’d won (only half today, Travis owed him a handjob when they got home), and then the rest were variations on telling Travis to hurry up and come meet him, even though Joey could tell time perfectly well and knew that Travis had been in practice. 

There were also five different dick pics, which Travis wasn’t complaining about. He just hoped Joey hadn’t whipped it out on the sidewalk to take them again. 

But who was he kidding? Obviously he had. 

Travis jogged through the halls of the school, heading outside to meet Joey. He crossed the yard and passed through the gates of the school, saw his boyfriend standing there, bag on the ground, phone in his hand, fingers on the waistband of his gym shorts as he clearly considered pulling them down. He also had on his oversized, dragon-shaped hoodie with the spines and the tail, the only thing besides his wrestling singlet that Travis could reliably get him to wear. 

“Hey,” Travis said, waving, before shorts could fall. 

Joey looked up, face lighting up, and he ran over and leapt into a hug. “Hi! What took you so long?”

“I took the same amount of time I always take,” Travis laughed, kissing Joey. “Stop being so impatient.” 

“But I missed you,” Joey complained, kissing Travis back before going to pick up his bag. “How was your practice?”

“It was fine,” Travis told him, shrugging. “Mostly batting practice, which I suck at, but that’s why I’m not a batter.” 

“No, you’re a catcher,” Joey said, taking Travis’s hand as they started walking home. 

Travis wanted to correct him, but he also knew that Joey was just making a gay sex joke and not that Joey didn’t actually know what position he played, so he smiled. “Yeah. Pitcher most of the time,” he reminded Joey, squeezing his hand. 

Joey grinned. “Can I catch for you when we get home?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Travis giggled, kissed Joey on the cheek. “Of course you can. You remember that we’re going over to Cal’s later, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joey told him. “You don’t have to keep reminding me, I know. We’re going to explore that cave.” 

Travis nodded, pleased. Joey had had exactly one friend when Travis had met him, and Louis was a nice enough guy but Joey needed more than one person. And well, Travis had needed someone as well. And now they’d found a bunch of people who they could get together and play Dungeons and Dragons with, not to mention actual fun exploring and stuff, which they sadly weren’t doing today, but that was okay. They’d have pizza and fun and maybe also beer, which Travis kind of liked even if Joey didn’t. “We should bring some overnight stuff, just in case we go super late again.” 

“I’ll bring a toothbrush,” Joey said. “Don’t need anything else.”

“A change of clothes?” 

“These ones are clean.” 

“What if they’re not by the end of the night?”

Joey looked down at his clothes, which weren’t even as clean as he said they were. “I’ll just take them off when we get to Cal’s place. That way they’ll stay clean.” 

Travis sighed. “You can’t just take your clothes off, Joey,” he said, for the gazillion and fifth time. 

Joey shrugged. “I don’t see why not. They’re our friends, and they’re all guys. And Cal already told me he doesn’t care if I’m naked in his house.” 

Stupid Cal, Travis thought. He’d been working really hard to make Joey live in the world of people who wore clothes, and he had to go and say stupid shit like that. “That’s because he wants an excuse to be naked half the time too.” And it wasn’t like Travis didn’t understand. He didn’t have a problem with nudity—he happily stripped off his clothes when alone with Joey, and he’d spent enough time in locker rooms that other people seeing him on display didn’t bother him in the slightest. But he also didn’t want to get expelled or arrested for indecent behaviour, so he kept his pants on at school and in the mall, unlike a certain boyfriend of his he could name. 

“Well, we should let him,” Joey reasoned. “We could have naked DnD.” 

“That sounds like foreplay for an orgy,” Travis said. 

“Well, I don’t think anyone would complain about that, either,” Joey said with a smile. 

Travis laughed. “Maybe I would.” 

“You wouldn’t, I know you.” Joey elbowed him. “You’d do it.” 

Travis blushed a little. He liked Joey the most, obviously. But he didn’t really have a problem with the idea of doing stuff with a few other guys. He’d fooled around with a few teammates before and stuff, it wasn’t a big deal. Sex and love were different things, he knew that. “I guess. But probably not tonight.” 

“No, probably not tonight.” Joey smiled. “Someday though, just to try.” 

Travis laughed. “Yeah. It’ll be fun.”

Joey nodded, looking up at Travis, and tugging him down for a kiss on the cheek as they walked. “I’m always going to want you the most, though, don’t worry. And I’m always going to love you the most.” 

Travis felt himself warm up at that, and he grinned like a complete dope. “Me too. You’re the only one I love, Joey.”

Joey giggled, and he sped up, pulling on Travis’s arm to get him moving faster. “Come on!” he said, energetic as ever. “Let’s get home so I can do some catching for you. After I want to practice my new move on you!” 

“Okay, okay, don’t rip my arm off!” Travis laughed, and sped up, and the two of them raced home, hand in hand.


	24. Rainy Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And our other new characters! Who definitely need some happy domestic bliss after the climax of their own story last week.

“What’s a five-letter word for “quite upset?”” Cordelia asked, tapping her pen against the newspaper. 

“Angry.”

“Ends with an E,” Cordelia added. 

Isabella looked up from the pair of Iago’s pants that she was mending again. She looked at Cordelia for a second, thinking. “Irate,” she said after a second. 

“Ah,” Cordelia filled it in, nodding at the crossword puzzle. “Thank you, love.” 

“Which is what I’m going to be with your son if he doesn’t stop tearing his clothes to pieces.” 

“I think he’s your son in that regard, dear,” Cordelia said with a smile. “You’re harder on clothes than anyone I’ve ever met. He clearly gets it from your side of the family.” 

“Yes, but you’re the one who wanted a boy.” 

Cordelia chuckled now, filling in another word in the puzzle. The rain slammed hard against the window, making her even more pleased that they’d decided to stay in today. “You ought to know better than to ascribe personality traits a gendered dimension. He destroys everything he touches because he’s a pain in the ass, not because he’s a boy.” 

“Being a boy and being a pain in the ass seem to go hand in hand,” Isabella grumbled. 

“Judith Butler is rolling in her grave,” Cordelia tutted. 

Isabella gave her a look. “Judith Butler isn’t dead, Cordelia.”

“I know that,” Cordelia told her, snorting. “It was a figure of speech.” 

Isabella rolled her eyes, held up Iago’s pants. They didn’t have a hole in them anymore, at least. “And if she were here she’d probably tell you that gendered behaviours are learned and enforced by society, and though Iago’s status as a pain in the ass may not be decided by his chromosomes, it was sure as hell decided by the way that our culture expects boys to behave.” 

Cordelia laughed. “How did he rip his pants this time, anyway?” It was a fairly common phenomenon. She didn’t think he owned a stitch of clothing that hadn’t been mended at least once. 

“He was pretending to be a unicorn, that’s all I got out of him. There, they’re fixed. Though he’s probably off ripping another pair as we speak.” 

“I don’t expect so,” Cordelia said, glancing out the window again. “Seeing as he’s out in the backyard.” She couldn’t see him at the moment, but he’d run by a moment ago. 

“In this rain?” 

“Yes, he’s playing in the mud. I’d better put some towels down by the door so he doesn’t track mud into the house, actually.” 

Isabella nodded. Then she suddenly frowned. “Do I want to know why you’re so sure he won’t rip his pants?”

“No.” 

“Tell me anyway.” 

“He’s out there in his underwear.” 

Isabella closed her eyes a moment, setting the mended pants aside. “I’ll go find his health card so we can take him to the hospital for hypothermia when he comes in.” 

“It’s plenty warm outside.” Cordelia suddenly realized she’d made a mistake on one of the clues, and scowled at it, writing over the letters she’d mistaken put in with the right ones. 

“I’m just saying, we never had issues like this with Christina.” 

“Christina wore her clothes inside-out for a year when she was Iago’s age,” Cordelia reminded Isabella. 

“Fair enough,” Isabella grumbled. “Obviously the main mistake we made was having children in the first place.”

“Obviously.” 

“Ten dollars says he’s naked when he comes in.” 

“I’m not taking that bet.” Cordelia was no fool. “Far-eastern, eight letters…Oriental? Are we allowed to say that? I thought it was racist.” 

“Apparently the crossword editor didn’t think so,” Isabella said, sighing. Her phone pinged, and she picked it up. “Christina wants to go to her friend’s house since it’s closer and it’s still raining.” 

Cordelia snorted. “Her friend’s house or her boyfriend’s house?”

Isabella shrugged, texting a reply. “I’m telling her yes.” 

Cordelia just sighed. Christina was old enough to make her own choices and Geoffrey was a nice enough boy from a nice enough family, but really. “Heterosexuality,” she lamented. “In this day and age. The gay agenda has failed us.” 

“There’s still time with Iago and Carlos,” Isabella muttered. 

“And have them grow up and date boys? Then we’ll be outnumbered, and we’ll never get the daughter-in-law we deserve.” 

“At least we have a shot at grandchildren.” 

“My parents have three grandchildren and they don’t have a straight daughter,” Cordelia pointed out. 

“Fair enough,” Isabella sighed. “You’re going to have to get over her liking boys someday, though.”

“I will when you get over Iago _being_ a boy, love.” 

Isabella pulled an unbecoming face, then looked over as the baby monitor crackled, Carlos waking up from his nap. “Guess I’ll go get the third one.” 

Cordelia stood when Isabella did, setting the crossword aside for now. “I’ll go get the naked one some towels so he doesn’t make a mess.” 

“What should we have for supper?” Isabella asked as they headed for the door of the living room together. 

“I’m feeling chicken,” Cordelia said, thinking on it. “I’ll check in the kitchen to see what we have after.” 

Isabella nodded, and they went in their separate directions, tending to their house. The rain battered down on them the rest of the day, but Cordelia didn’t mind. She’d always liked rainy days.


	25. Story Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is by request of one of my readers who goes by "justsomegal," who asked for Pax and Iago to tell stories together. Hope you enjoy!

“And then the big bag wolf helped the first two piggies rebuild their houses because he felt bad that he’d blown them over, and they all became friends.” 

Pax blinked. The story had been going just the way he’d thought it was supposed to up until that last part. “Are you sure about that?”

Iago DeThane nodded sagely. “Yes.” He was eight years old and Pax was babysitting him for…some reason. He and Nate had driven all the way down here for an important delivery, which had resulted in some crisis that Nate was off fixing with Cordelia and Isabella DeThane, and in the shuffle Pax had been voluntold to babysit Iago and his two-year-old brother Carlos, who was at least sleeping now. 

That had been a joy and half when he’d realized it was time for his nap and neither of his moms had been here to put him down. 

But he was snoring on the other side of the baby monitor and Iago was now sitting in Pax’s lap, reading him stories to show how good he was at it. 

Pax looked at the page of the book, which clearly didn’t say that the pigs and wolf became friends. “But that’s not what it says in the book.” 

Iago nodded, giving Pax a bit of a look. “I know. I can read. But I didn’t like the way the story ends, so I changed it. You’re allowed to do that, you know.”

Pax blinked. “Did your mom teach you that?”

“Yes.”

Well, what a good parent she must be. Pax liked her. Whichever one they were talking about. “Well, she’s right. Stories belong to the people who read them, so you should change the endings of ones you don’t like.” 

“That’s what I always do!” Iago said, grinning. “Like in Little Red Riding hood, I like the part where the wolf says sorry for eating the grandma and then they all become friends and go on an adventure!”

Pax smiled. “I like that part too.”

“And in the Boy Who Cried Wolf, when it turns out that the wolf was just lonely and he and the boy become friends so that the boy stops fibbing all the time!” 

“Hm…” Pax was sensing a theme here. “I think you just want the wolf to be the good guy sometimes, huh?”

Iago nodded vehemently. “I don’t understand why the wolves are always bad! Wolves are awesome! They’re pretty much just dogs and dogs are friendly. I think it’s just rastist…raceiest…racist! I think it’s racist when they make the wolves the bad guys all the time and never talk about good wolves.” 

“You’re right,” Pax said, amused. Iago was a funny kid. “It is pretty bad. Wolves have to deal with a lot of discrimination and stuff as it is, it’s not really fair that they have to live with the stigma that comes from starring as the villain in all our stories on top of that. Did you know that if you’re a wolf, they just won’t let you get a driver’s licence?” 

Iago’s eyes went wide. “What? Really?”

“Really,” Pax told him. “You’re never allowed to drive a car if you’re a wolf, even though you know how often wolves crash cars? Never. You know how often humans crash cars? Every day. It’s not fair. And don’t even get me started on trying to get a job.” 

Iago giggled. “Wolves don’t have jobs!”

“I know! They could be hardworking members of society but as soon as they come in with their resume in hand it’s all ‘oh, he’s going to eat us, how did he get that tie on, I bet he killed the real applicant, his resume is covered in pawprints and in the wrong font, we’re not hiring him! And they don’t care that the wolf has three pups to feed at home, they just send him off without even an interview.”

“That’s so terrible!” Iago laughed. 

“I know!” Pax smiled at him. “I was raised by wolves, you know, so I know about this. It’s really hard to join polite society when your parents are wolves and everyone’s always hiding their grandmothers from you.” 

“You were raised by wolves?” Iago asked, eyes wide. “Really?”

Pax leaned in conspiratorially. “Not really, I was raised by criminals. But I like the story better if it was wolves, don’t you?”

“Yeah! Can the wolves talk? I like wolves that talk.” 

“Sure, the wolves talk all the time, how do you think I learned? They never stop talking.”

Iago nodded. “Good. I think the wolves should come in the town and take all the jobs and make all the mean people go live in the forest with the rabbits and birds.” 

“I agree,” Pax said, pleased. “Only mean people should have to live where there are birds.”

“Birds are scary.”

Pax grinned. “You know you’re the smartest kid I’ve ever met?”

“I know,” Iago said, hopping off Pax’s lap. “Did you know that the king of all the birds lives in my bedroom? And he’s evil and keeps kidnapping my toys.”

“That’s awful,” Pax said, shaking his head. What was the world coming to when a kid’s toys weren’t even safe from the bird menace anymore? 

“Yeah.” Iago tugged at Pax’s hand. “Maybe you should come help me fight him! I try all the time but he’s too strong for me. I even turned into a unicorn and a dragon once and it didn’t work! But I bet if I had a good wolf on my side we could win!”

Pax stood, grabbing the baby monitor. “I bet you’re right. I do know how to turn into a wolf, actually. I know a lot of werewolves and they taught me how.”

“If you bite me, will I turn into a werewolf too?” Iago asked, as he pulled Pax out of the playroom.

“Do you want to be a werewolf too?”

“Yes!”

“Then I can show you how to be one without biting you, come on.” 

“Yay!”

“Can you show me how to turn into a unicorn too?” Pax asked. 

“Okay! It’s all in the wrist,” Iago told him sagely.

“Of course, I should have known that was the secret.” Now Pax just felt silly for not figuring that out. 

“It’s tricky, most people don’t know that. They think the wrist is just for throwing things and holding pencils and stuff, but there’s other stuff in there too.”

Pax went with Iago to go fight the king of all the birds, and listened intently to everything he said. And together they wrote a story that they liked the ending of.


	26. New Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stephan's introduction into the Modern AU comes under slightly less traumatic circumstances, haha.

The paperwork was endless, which was Stephan’s least favourite part of being mayor. It was just nonstop forms and signing and reading and contracts and it was all awful. Stephan hated it.

And when the paperwork went away, it was talking on the phone to convince people to do things, or having meetings about things that didn’t matter (meetings never mattered), or doing interviews with the newspaper about whatever his office was doing that week. Stephan hated all of that, too. 

And when it wasn’t that, it was city council meetings, where he had to try and wrangle all the people who wanted him to do a million different things into actually doing the things he’d promised in the election campaign. That was terrible too. 

And when it wasn’t any of that, it was fundraising, which was just the worst.

Actually, Stephan just didn’t like being the mayor very much. 

He wasn’t supposed to win. Everyone had said he had no shot when he’d announced his candidacy. He’d been running to talk about issues and to force Francesca DiGorre to be more decisive and less defensive of the status quo, that was all. He’d just wanted her to be better at it, not to have to step down. 

But then people had liked what he’d been saying, and he’d gotten a lot of support from a lot of people. And then a lot of money from a lot of people. And then a lot of votes from a lot of people. 

Stephan hadn’t wanted to be mayor, but now he was, and he had to do a good job. The people deserved it from him, even if he was reluctant. He couldn’t well come out and say he’d never wanted this on television and let down all the people who believed in him, could he?

“Your meeting with the head of the transit committee is being moved back to Thursday,” Neville said, reaching Stephan’s schedule. 

“No, why?” Stephan looked up from the paperwork he was doing. “That’s supposed to be tomorrow morning, isn’t it?”

“Yes. We’re moving it to Thursday so you can meet with the finance committee instead.”

“No,” Stephan repeated. “Who told you to do that?”

Neville blinked, looking up from the schedule. He was Stephan’s best friend, and though Stephan had offered him any number of positions, he’d asked for a secretarial position. “Ulrich suggested it was a better use of your time right away and I think he’s right. The transit people can wait…”

“No,” Stephan said, shaking his head. “No, they can’t. I promised twice as many bus routes in this city when I got elected. I’m meeting with the transit people before the finance people because I don’t want to start the transit meeting with a dollar sign hanging around my neck. It was on purpose, Neville.”

Neville looked at Stephan, then frowned down at his schedule. “Sorry. I’ll move it back.”

“Thank you.” Stephan didn’t always make the best decisions on his own, but he did know what he was doing. 

“Did Geoffrey suggest that to you? As a strategy?”

Stephan looked back up from where he’d started to sign his name again. “He helped me come up with it, yes.” 

“You listen to him too much.”

Stephan shrugged. “I listen to people who are right. That’s what I’m supposed to do.” 

“Yes, but also to people you trust. His father was a huge supporter of Francesca.” 

Stephan nodded. Geoffrey DiSheere was only on the city council because his father had died after winning his seat back. Geoffrey had stepped up to take his place, but Gerhard had been one of Stephan’s biggest opposing voices, both when he was on the council and during the election. Geoffrey was a lot more reasonable, though. “But he isn’t. And even if he was, what’s he going to do?”

“Assassinate you?” 

“Neville!” That wasn’t funny. “We all want what’s best for the city. And I trust him more than I do Ulrich and Margery.”

“Who got you elected.”

“The people got me elected,” Stephan said, though Ulrich and Margery’s money and speeches had helped a great deal. “Those two want what’s best for them, not what’s best for everyone.”

“And Geoffrey DiSheere doesn’t?”

Stephan shook his head. “Of course he does. But he’s open enough about it and he has no power on the city council. It’s fine, Neville.”

“I don’t think it is. I don’t like Ulrich and Margery much either, but I don’t like him having so much pull over you either.”

“You don’t like anyone having pull over me other than you, right?” Stephan smiled. It was a joke. “You don’t like anyone demanding my time other than you.”

Neville sighed, looked away. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t. I miss it being just us.”

“Me too,” Stephan admitted. His life had been a lot easier when all he’d had to do was attend council meetings every month and then do whatever he wanted other than that. But now most of his day was taken up with stuff he didn’t want to do, and he hardly saw Neville except for brief moments where he was being shepherded to another meeting or something. It sucked. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even run.”

“No, it’s good that you did.” Neville came over, put a hand on Stephan’s. “You’re what the city needs.”

“We’ll see,” Stephan said, sighing. “Do I still have that meeting with Ulrich and Margery before the full council meeting tomorrow?”

“Yes.” Neville smiled at him. “You want me to cancel it?”

“Yes.”

“Should I call Geoffrey?”

“No, um…” Stephan smiled at Neville. “I figured I’d talk to you instead. You are my preferred person to spend time with, you know.”

“Am I?” Neville smiled. “Well in that case, I guess I’ll book the time off. I’ll get us reservations somewhere and we’ll go out after the council meeting.”

“And not talk about work,” Stephan said, nodding. “Just for one night.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Neville said, nodding. “I’m one of your constituents too, after all.”

“You’re the only one that matters.” 

“Love you too. Now get back to work.”

“Yes, my king,” Stephan grumbled, looking back down at his paperwork. “Ugh. Why.”

Stephan really didn’t like being mayor. But he was going to do it well, and he was going to do his best by his people, and most importantly by Neville. He just hoped he could pull it off.


	27. Stranger Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drew's situation in the Modern AU is also a little different, of course.

Drew wasn’t an idiot. 

_How was your day?_

He understood that not everyone was good. He knew better than to talk to weird people he met online. He didn’t share his personal information with anyone. 

_Okay! How was yours?_

But sometimes it was nice, when his life got too hard, when he got tired of everyone pretending he didn’t exist, his teachers forgetting his name, other students looking right past him when he was trying to talk, sometimes it was nice to talk to someone who cared about him. 

_Boring_ , Lyren told him through the messaging app they were using. That obviously wasn’t his real name, but Drew didn’t care. _Less boring now that you’re back._

Drew smiled at his phone screen. Lyren was just always so nice to him. And not in a creepy way. He didn’t ask Drew for photos or try to talk about anything gross or inappropriate or anything. He just let Drew complain about Frederick and his grades and everything else and it was nice. It wasn’t weird. It was just two people talking online. The miracle of modern communication. 

_I never went anywhere_ , Drew texted. _I was just at school._

_Blah. Glad that’s over._

_Same._

Drew was about to text something else, just a stupid comment about losing a pen earlier, when he suddenly noticed someone right in front of him and sidestepped to get away. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Frederick said, hand on Drew’s arm. He smiled, obviously just unaware that he was killing Drew by being that close. “It’s not like you to be buried in your phone like that.”

Drew blushed, because all he could ever do when Frederick talked to him was blush. He put his phone away. “So-sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing, silly?” Frederick smiled, a smile that lit up the school way better than the fluorescent lights overhead. “Everything’s okay, right?”

“Yeah!” Drew nodded for too long, then stopped abruptly. “Yeah. I was just talking to a friend, that’s all. Um. How are you?”

“Good. I’m tired. And I’m tired of math.”

Drew laughed, which Frederick did too. “Me too. But it’s almost the weekend.”

“I like how you skip over that it’s almost Friday.”

Drew nodded. They had a math test Friday. “Optimism?”

“I wish I had some of that…”

“Um…” Drew wasn’t that bad at math, actually. “Do you want to study together?” he asked, trying not to make it all one long word in there. “Maybe tomorrow night? Th-then we wouldn’t have to worry as much!”

Oh, God, Drew was going to die. Drew was going to die, why had he done that? Frederick was going to say no, he didn’t need help studying, he was so much smarter than Drew, and…

“Sure,” Frederick said with a quiet laugh. That adorable, wonderful quiet laugh he had. “That’s be great. You want to come over to my place? Unless that’s too weird.”

“No, that’s fine, that’s fine.” Drew was definitely going to die. Oh God. “We can go over after school?”

“Sure. I’ll let Franz and Boey know.” Frederick was living with the people he was working for now, it seemed like he’d been sort of adopted by them, which was neat. Drew had a similar part-time job with the ven Sanctes, but he was living where he’d always lived. “They won’t care. They’ll even make us food, probably. Oh, hey, do you want to stay the night? I know it’s a weeknight so we can’t actually have fun, but…”

“I’d love that!” Drew snapped his mouth shut, blushing furiously. At least he hadn’t said that he loved Frederick like he almost had last time they’d spoken. “It would be…fun. Yeah. Th-thank you.”

Frederick smiled his mega-smile again. “No problem.” Drew was going to die. “I’ll invite Silas too if that’s okay. We can all study together and then watch a movie or something. It’ll be fun.”

Drew was going to die. He tried not to let his face fall. “Y-yeah,” he said, his hopes of some nice alone time with the object of his endless affections dashed against the rocks that were Frederick’s best friend. Drew hated Silas, so much, and not because of anything he’d done. “That sounds fun.”

“Cool,” Frederick said, patting Drew’s back as he moved past him. “I have to go, but I’ll see you. Oh. I found this earlier. I think it’s yours?” He handed Drew a pen from his pocket. 

Drew took it, nodding, face so, so red. His finger touched Frederick’s as he took the pen back. “Th-thanks…”

“No problem. See you.”

“See you, Frederick,” Drew said, heart racing. He waved after Frederick like an idiot, then stopped, then tried to pretend that hadn’t happened, that none of it had happened. 

His phone was buzzing in his pocket and he took it back out, running into a bathroom and closing the stall door so he could panic. There were some messages from Lyren. 

_I guess it’s two more days before the weekend, though. So that sucks._

_Do you have plans this weekend?_

_Drew?_

_You still there?_

_Drew? You okay?_

With shaking hands, Drew typed out a reply. _Sorry. I’m back._

_Everything okay?_ Lyren asked.

_I’m going to die. I ran into Frederick. Send help._

_Haha, tell me you at least talked to him this time._

_I did! And it sucked!_

_What happened?_

_We’re going to study for our test tomorrow night! He invited me to sleep over!_

_That’s great!_

_And then he invited his friend too!_ Drew followed that with a crying emoji to make it clear that he wasn’t happy.

Ouch. So he’s…still oblivious then.

He’s going to kill me and he doesn’t even know it, Lyren! Why? Why??

Okay, maybe Drew was being a little dramatic. But that was fine. One of the things he liked about Lyren was that Lyren never called him on that. He never told Drew it was just a stupid schoolboy crush that wouldn’t matter in a week. He never told Drew that his problems weren’t a big deal. It was nice. 

_He’s just dumb_ , Lyren said. _I know you like him but he’s dumb because he’s a boy. Just wait until the friend goes to the bathroom or something and see what happens._

_That’s a good idea_ , Drew said, breathing a little more normally now. _Thanks, Lyren._

_I’m here to help._

Drew giggled, getting up and leaving the bathroom stall, looking around to make sure there was nobody in the bathroom. _Enough about me. What are you up to?_

_Nothing much, just wasting time on the internet. Talking to this awesome guy I met online._

_Oh really?_ Drew felt a weird pang of jealousy. But it wasn’t like he had the monopoly on Lyren’s attention, God. 

_Yeah, his name’s Drew and he has this crush on a dumb boy at his school…_

_Lyren!_ Now Drew was blushing again as he left the bathroom, smiling at Hope as he passed by him, but not stopping to talk to him. _Stop._

_You can’t make me._

And Drew didn’t want to. He wasn’t an idiot, and he knew how to talk to people safely online. He kept texting back and forth with Lyren as he walked home, just happy that there was someone out there who got him.


	28. Software Bug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone seems to be fond of Scott, so here he is in the Modern AU!

The apartment smelled foul, and Sam wrinkled his nose as they stepped inside. “What the hell is that?”

“Don’t know,” Henry said, holding his arm and pulling Sam to one side to walk him around something. “Might be all that garbage and rotten food everywhere.”

“Lovely.”

“You’re the one who wanted to come visit this guy.”

“I didn’t want to talk to him over a computer. That’s his turf.”

“And this isn’t?”

Sam scowled. Henry had a point, but his own point stood. Talking to this person over the computer would have opened him up to all kinds of computer-related problems that he didn’t understand or have the patience to get fixed, plus Sam’s screen reader wasn’t working as well as he wanted it to and he hadn’t found a better one yet. So he was here in person instead. “Whatever. Where is he?”

“Well, I’m guessing in that room back there where the music’s playing.”

There was faint music playing, Sam heard, not the loud, annoying rock that hackers always listened to in movies. Sounded like the annoying pop music that Henry liked. “Well, let’s go, then.”

“Nah, he can come out and meet us,” Henry said, not moving Sam. 

“And if he doesn’t?” Sam didn’t need to be kept waiting out here while some idiot computer geek played games with them.

“Don’t know, I’ll call the department of health on him or something. There’s a violation going on here somewhere.”

Laughter filtered out from the room, and a moment later some shuffling, things being moved, kicked out of the way, on the floor. “Calm down, calm down, I’m right here.” 

His voice was very grating, a bit high, but male. “You’re Scolopendra?” Sam asked. 

“SCOLOpendra,” the hacker repeated, coming closer. “You’re not capitalizing the first two syllables, I can tell.”

“I don’t care.”

“Heh.” A creaking as the hacker dropped into a chair or sofa. “Well, if you’re not going to pronounce it right I’d rather you didn’t say it at all, Sammy. You can call me Scott.”

“And you can call me sir,” Sam said, letting Henry guide him to a chair. 

“I did, I just pronounced it wrong.” 

Sam already didn’t like him. “Your living space is disgusting. Just because you’ve named yourself after an insect doesn’t mean you have to live like one.”

“Eh.” Scott shifted in his chair. “Just because you’re named after a psycho doesn’t mean you have to act like one. Did you come here to talk about my hygiene or about computers?”

“Can’t we do both?” Henry asked. “You ever heard of a shower?”

“Only the golden kind, Mr. Arkhewer. Now you be quiet, I don’t want to talk to you.”

Sam let out a breath. He needed something from this freak. “I understand you worked for Solomon.”

“On occasion, when he felt like paying me.”

“I want to know what jobs you did for him.” There was too much in Solomon’s files that Sam couldn’t make sense of. 

“Hm. Do you feel like paying me?”

“Of course. How much do you want?”

“Heh.” Scott sounded the way he smelled. “It’s rather crass to talk about money when we’ve just met, isn’t it?”

“You’re wearing a shirt that says “fuck the police” and has a picture of a demon raping an angel on it,” Henry said. “And you want to talk about crass?”

“I think I told you to stop talking. I’m the person with all the information that you want, Sammy, and you’re going to do what I want if you want to get it.”

Henry’s hand slid down his body, but Sam stopped him. “Let’s hear what it is you want before we decide. Bearing in mind that I don’t like being threatened.”

“Oh, I know. How did it ever work out for that kid of yours? The one who was looking up how to poison you? Just kidding, I already know, dumbass never turns his phone off. He’s into some weird shit, you know that? Though that’s nothing compared to the other kid…”

“If I’m meant to be impressed that you hacked into Derek and Todd’s phones,” Sam told Scott, “I’m really not. I don’t care about them.”

“No, but you might follow the line of logic and realize that I’ve been watching you two too. Two too two too.” Scott let out a giggle. “And you never even knew. Also a lot of your bodyguards. And your board of directors. And the mayor, just for fun. Lots of people. I watch lots of people.”

“Why?”

“Because I can,” Scott said, standing up. His voice got closer to Sam. “Because it’s fun. The point being that I know a lot of things. I could tell you a lot of things. I could help you.” Scott came around, was leaning over Sam now, undeterred by Henry moving in. 

Sam found himself grateful for Henry. “You haven’t told me what you want.”

“Lots of things. So many things. From you? I want…manpower.”

“Manpower.”

“Sad though it may be, there are some things that aren’t on computers yet. Some stuff I want to know, some stuff that’s important to me. Archives, police files, hospital records. All on paper.” That last word was said with such disdain. “I want you to get me that stuff. I have a shopping list.”

“Why didn’t Solomon ever give them to you?” Henry asked, before Sam could answer. Scott’s breath was awful. 

“Don’t know. Guess I scared him too much.” 

Solomon had been scared of a lot of things that Sam wasn’t. “You can have…”

“No, you can’t.”

“Henry.”

“What’s he giving you in exchange, Sam? The same thing he gave Solomon?”

Sam paused, frowning. Fair enough. “I suppose. If you want all that, I’ll need more than you gave him.”

Scott grunted, getting a little closer. Sam felt Henry reach out and hold him back. “I gave him quiet a lot.”

“You’ll give me everything, then,” Sam said, swallowing air that tasted like bile. “I want unlimited access to you and your work. I’ll give you the money and resources to do what you want. And in exchange you’ll be my pet hacker.”

Scott snorted, his breath hot on Sam’s cheek. “Fine. Deal.”

“Not yet,” Sam said, thinking of something else. “You aren’t going to spy on me or mine anymore. You’ll direct your attention to who I tell you to direct it to, and leave alone the people I tell you to.”

“Sure,” Scott said, voice half a slither. “I can do that.”

“You can,” Henry said, and a second later Sam heard a gun cock. “You can or I’ll shoot you. In the leg, first. Then in the belly.”

Scott was quiet, then he giggled again. “As if Sammy would let you do that. You’re not a very good bluffer.”

“He’s not bluffing,” Sam said, understanding what Henry was thinking. “You are no use to me if I can’t trust you. You’ll do as I stipulate, and if I suspect you’re breaking the terms of our deal, if I think you’re lying to me or working against me, or if I decide I don’t like you, I’ll have Henry kill you.”

This time the quiet felt much more real. Scott reached up and brushed a finger down Sam’s chin. Sam could imagine the trail of grime he must be leaving behind. “Heh. You’re taller than I gave you credit for, Sammykins. Okay, we’ll play your game. But if you’re going to keep an eye on me that close, guess you’re going to want me nearby. You’ve got empty rooms, right?”

“Next time he touches me, break the body part that he used to do it,” Sam said, standing up and making Scott move. 

“Got it.”

“Cute,” Scott said. “Do we have a deal or not?”

“I’ll make the arrangements. Someone will come by to pick you up tomorrow. Pack your things, if you have any that aren’t trash.”

“I’ve got my computers and my centipedes. Also a deck of cards somewhere, I think.”

Sam tried not to feel too revulsed at that idea. “Next time I see you, I want to hear everything you did for Solomon.”

“I’ll draw up a list. By the way, the screen reader you use sucks. I’ll write you a better one, if you want.”

Sam just took Henry’s arm and let Henry lead him to the door of the apartment. “Thank you for your time,” he said to Scott, as they left.

“See you, roomie,” Scott called after them, chuckling to himself as the door shut. 

“Wish you hadn’t done that,” Henry muttered as they walked to the elevator. “Still, good touch with the threat at the end. He looked scared when you said it. He knew you meant it.”

“Good.” Sam sighed, pretending not to be pleased that Henry approved. “We’ll make sure someone cleans his space for him regularly. Todd can do it.”

“Might have to assign him a few dozen under-janitors,” Henry said. He sighed. “I don’t like him. He’s up to something.”

“We’re all up to something,” Sam told him. “Whatever. If it gets to be a problem we’ll kill him.”

“Okay,” Henry said, stepping them into the elevator. “I’m holding you to that.”

Sam had no intention of changing his mind on it. Scott was only useful as long as he was useful. After that, he was dangerous. He knew too much. “The best way to get rid of a bug is to step on it,” Sam muttered, mostly to himself, as the elevator doors closed and they started to move down. 

Inside his apartment, Scott fed his pets some dead spiders and giggled. “Shhh…quiet, quiet, don’t tell…it’s meant to be a surprise."


End file.
